Burning
by Damion-Maxwell-Winner42
Summary: angst,language, descriptive cutting, suicide-themes, yaoi,(2x4) Not for the faint of heart, I've heard. It's been a long time. Author note explaining why and finally... Chapter 21.
1. Burn

Disclaimers: I do not own gundam wing.. I do not own gundam wing, I do not own gundam wing, I do not own gundam wing. …… I .. do .. own gundam wing! Ha! *gets poked by a muse* huh?? Aww man… just a dream.. I do not own gundam wing. (but I –do- own fundam wing . uhhh.. nu?)  
  
Warnings: self mutalation, angst, self bondage, angst, language! Angst!! Possible suicide attempts. Uhmmm watch out for a random flying typo. They happen.  
  
Pairings: 2x4 (forever!!!) and there might be hints or scenes of 1x3 I don't know yet..  
  
This is the first fic I've uploaded.. tell me if I did anything wrong please!!!! Also tell me if something doesn't make sense or if I really spelled something wrong. Please. Ok read and review and be nice!! Flames welcomed. (I think I titled this Burning for a reason ^.~) tell me what you think. Please. Please!!!!  
  
  
  
Here I was again, the same old mess in the same situation.  
  
Every –fucking- night I end up like this and I don't know why.  
  
      It's getting really old.  
  
      Sitting on the floor of my room, knees to my chest arms  
  
wrapped around them tightly. I noticed, in these nights, you're  
  
grip  
  
tightens when you think about stuff that should make you angry or sad  
  
or depressed or whatever the hell they want to call it today. My arms  
  
were wrapped around my knees for dear life at this point. My chin  
  
resting on my knees, staring off into nothing.  
  
      Nothing. The story of my life. A ballroom dance where every  
  
nothing gathers and end up in an all out battle of torment and anger  
  
fighting endlessly. Till I give in. till I end up like this.  
  
      I sit here and think to myself as if I was actually telling  
  
someone all this.. maybe I am, maybe I'm trying to explain to  
  
myself  
  
what the hell I'm doing. Maybe I'm trying to explain to my  
  
body, as a  
  
form of apology. Maybe I'm just nuts.  
  
I can't even feel the pain in my arms anymore. It's there, I  
  
know it  
  
is on some subconscious level. Conscious though, that evilness that  
  
learned to take my life and rip it to a million fucking pieces of  
  
already broken parts, conscious wins the battle and blocks out the  
  
pain.  
  
      I cant feel anything actually, I'm vaguely aware of the blood  
  
that has dripped off my arms onto the floor, temporarily staining it  
  
red. I don't care. I don't care if the phone rings, I  
  
don't care if  
  
someone knocks on the door, and I don't care if the fucking FBI  
  
prances in here and arrests me for eating ice cream on the sidewalk.  
  
I don't care if I die.  
  
      And this is me in a good mood. Slashing parts of my arm up  
  
and just sitting staring endlessly not giving a damn about anything  
  
is a good day. It's a weekend, nothing happened. Nothing ever  
  
happens.  
  
      Except my thoughts. They always manage to hunt me down and  
  
beat me till I submiss to them, let them beat me and bruise me and  
  
tell me how worthless I am. I let them screw my life up, fuck my arms  
  
and legs up. Then I let them lock me up.  
  
      Consciousness is a game now, I never know when I'm really  
  
awake. Sure, I know when I'm literally awake, but there are  
  
different  
  
levels of consciousness. I hit a shallow one, my thoughts locked me  
  
up, shut everything down, I'm at a perfect state of calm, except  
  
how  
  
fucking tense I am. Perfectly calm on the outside, blinking every  
  
couple of minutes when my eyes begin to burn, no other movement. Not  
  
shaking, not cringing at the supposed pain lacing through my arms,  
  
not crying because of how fucked up I am. Perfectly numb.  
  
      Except for my thoughts, they race, run as fast as they can,  
  
dragging what's left of my soul behind them.  
  
      I lose the same battle everynight to my thoughts.  
  
      My fists clench. I loose the same –fucking- battle every –  
  
fucking- night. I'm so weak. I'm useless! I'm a piece of  
  
trash that  
  
should just be sent to burn in the sun. I'm a fuck-up.  
  
      I lose the same battle, lose to my thoughts, and let them  
  
take me and brake me. And.. and I enjoy every damn moment of it.  
  
      This part, right here, this is where it gets bad.. this is  
  
where I always snap.. everynight.  
  
      No more am I perfectly numb, or calm. No more…  
  
      My fist clench so tight my nails dig into the palms of my  
  
hands, as I feel my face take on an statement that would be  
  
considered and understatement to call it hate or anger.  
  
      I punch the floor with both hands, letting some sort of  
  
strangled growl out.  
  
      I punch the floor again before holding my head in my hands  
  
and scream. I scream long and hard until all the air in my lungs is  
  
empty and my voice is just a mere strangle that ends in a pitiful  
  
gasp.  
  
      I sit there with my head in my hands gasping for about a  
  
minute until I abruptly slam my back and my head against the wall  
  
with a satisfying thud, over and over, violently slamming my head  
  
into the wall. Of course, never hard enough to actually knock myself  
  
out. I Stop ramming myself into the wall and begin to punch my thighs  
  
with my fists growling the whole time.  
  
      I stop punching myself and just grab onto my knees, digging  
  
my nails into them through the material of my pants, tightly closing  
  
my eyes. The only noise I can make is a semi-strangled groan that  
  
sounds more like a dying animal.  
  
      My hands forcefully shoot up to hold my head again, and I  
  
shake me head, my body trembling with anger. Anger at nothing. Just  
  
raw, pure anger.  
  
      I barely notice I'm rocking back and forth as I move my hands  
  
to my shoulders, crisscrossing them across my chest, trembling  
  
because every muscle in my body is tensed.  
  
      I drag my hands down across my shoulders, digging my nails in  
  
my skin hard but not breaking the skin. Then a sudden sick  
  
inspiration dawned upon me. I Stopped shaking and with a newfound  
  
focus got on my knees and started searching the floor.  
  
      Then I found it. My razor, my tiny silvery friend. I picked  
  
it up and sat against the wall again staring at the razor, transfixed  
  
by it for what seemed like hours but was merely a minute.  
  
      I glared at the razor and winced inwardly as I put it to my  
  
back around the area where my nails had scratched. I hold the razor  
  
against my bare back without moving it.  
  
      "Stop it…" I whisper helplessly to myself.  
  
      "Stop it. Stop it… Stop it!" I begin to chat..  
  
continuing my  
  
chant I drag the razor across my skin slowly, still chanting.       
  
      "Stop It.. Stop It.. this is stupid!" despite what I'm  
  
telling myself to do, I trace another line with the razor below the  
  
first one, this time faster.  
  
      "Stop it!!!!" I nearly scream, right before tracing another  
  
line right below, quicker and deeper.  
  
      "Stop it!" I say at the exact same time I make another cut.  
  
      Over and over, telling myself to stop the exact same time I  
  
drag that thin blade into my skin, faster and deeper. My eyes are  
  
closed, and I'm nearly screaming for myself to stop, but at the  
  
same  
  
time my hand keeps moving the razor across the flesh on my back.  I  
  
Stop once I have a row of cuts all bleeding pretty badly from near  
  
the top of my shoulder to almost my waist, all less then a centimeter  
  
apart, some overlapping.  
  
      I sigh defeatedly as I look at my hand holding the razor, the  
  
razor and my hand alike are both covered in blood and I can feel as a  
  
flow of red life flows from my shoulder to my waist, staining my  
  
pants along with the floor.  
  
      I can't cry, I never have. Physical pain doesn't get me to  
  
cry easily and at this point neither does emotional.  
  
      I look at my hand again, transfixed by the blood on it. Then  
  
I drop the razor and punch the floor with my bloodied hand, not as  
  
hard as before.  
  
      "You're a monster, Quatre… A monster."  
  
  
  
Yay . I have finished a chapter. R&R and make me and my camels happy! 


	2. Default Chapter

Chapter two  
  
"You're a monster Quatre.. A monster"  
  
I dropped both my arms at my side, sighing heavily. I was tired, very, very tired, and physically tired wasn't even the half of it. The back of my head was pounding, my arm stung due to the 20 or so cuts on it, and the side of my back was almost numb with pain. Even with all that, the majority of the pain was still inside.  
  
That sounds –so- cliché.  
  
Like I'm the only one with pain all on the inside. No way, I know for a fact, that a million more people suffer a million times more then I do. I know that for a fact, for I know how many soldiers I killed how many families I ruined in the name of –peace-. I deserve this 'suffering' and I know that no matter what, my 'pain' is nothing compared to those who lost loved ones.  
  
I'll never be able to find a way to make it up to all those I hurt.  
  
I sigh inwardly and look over at the clock. 3:42. Damn. It's getting late.. not that I should mind, I don't have a thing to do tomorrow, no place to go, no one to see, nothing.  
  
I stand up shakily, not minding the pain from my back. I look at the floor from where I was sitting and see a fair amount of blood, some dry some not. I shrug it off, I'll clean it later.  
  
I walk to the bathroom and look in the large mirror on the wall.  
  
I looked like crap. My hair hadn't been cut recently and was about an inch shy of reaching my shoulders, and it was pretty much a tangled mess at this point. There were dark circles under my eyes from my lack of sleep, wich darkly contrasted with the almost sheet-like paleness of my face.  
  
My left arm had numerous little rivers of blood stained on it, as most of the cuts has stopped bleeding by now, while my back was still bleeding, not as bad as it was though.  
  
I sighed and turned away from the mirror, facing the shower. I figured I needed some way to clean up the mess I had made of myself, and a shower seemed like a good idea. I turned on the water, not really caring about the temperature. I stripped out of my clothes and stepped in, the water being a little more then warm. I sat on the floor of the shower, and fell naturally into the position with my knees to my chest and my arms limply wrapped around them.  
  
The hot water on my cuts burned, badly. I shrugged and turned the water even hotter, burning my skin only slightly and stinging the cuts even more. I watched the water go down the drain, diluted red water, as the cuts were still bleeding, and the water was only making then bleed more. I didn't care.  
  
I didn't care about anything.  
  
I turned the water as hot as it could go without killing myself.  
  
"Quatre you IDIOT!" I said through clenched teeth.  
  
Here I was again, fists clenched, heart racing. Pain.  
  
The shower was hot, hot enough to burn. But dammit! No matter how hot I made the water, or how deep the cuts were it couldn't cleanse my soul. Nothing could.  
  
I'm a dirty, dirty freak. Nothing can clean me, no matter how much pain I use… I'll always be dirty.  
  
Logic. The boys would laugh at how illogical I'm being. I –know- cutting or burning or whatever the heck I do, I can't erase other people's pain, nor could I ever erase the hate and anger quite literally BURNING within my soul.  
  
Burning….  
  
I love that word.. more so then bleeding.  
  
Even more then broken.  
  
Bleeding. Bleeding is merely what happens immediately after an injury. After you kill someone you bleed. You're heart bleeds sorry, immense amount of sorrow come bleeding out. But it eventually stops, may sting a little when you pay attention to it, but the bleeding stops and it scars.  
  
Some scars can fade away.  
  
Broken. Broken is a nice word. Broken is what happens after you lose someone very, very dear. Broken is what happens when everything in your world falls apart. Broken is what you see as the end of you. You can break. You can break many times, you can break and break and break until all that is left is dust. Dust seems so natural and calm to me though. You can break, but you can still be fixed, never back to perfection, but you can be fixed. Broken is merely big, visible scars. Many, many scars all big and shining is broken. You can never be the same after you break. But it is never the end.  
  
Broken is never the end.  
  
Burning. I love that word. If someone asked me what word describes me the best, it would be burning. Burning, like a raging fire burning my soul. Burning from the inside out, shaking and trembling in the flame. The flame of my thoughts, burning away at my sanity. The flame of everyone I killed, burning my soul, burning my thoughts. The raging fire, roaring and burning. The flames screaming, deafening me, the scream, the utter ANGER tearing apart my soul. Burning my heart, burning my logic. BURNING!! An endless flame destroying me. Burning. Burning me till all that will be left will be ash.  
  
Ash cannot be fixed. Ever.  
  
"Quatre… you idiot….." nothing I do is logical, nothing. There is no logical reason for anything I do. Even now, I just spent hours beating and chopping myself up, and yet I still have to burn myself in the shower at nearly 4 am. I'm such an… I don't even know, words can barely describe the monster I've turned myself into.  
  
The water was becoming warm instead of hot. Damn…  
  
I ran my fingers through my soaked hair and looked at the water again. It was still mixing with blood but a lot less now. I sat there staring at the water running down the drain, staring, oddly not thinking about anything. Just staring.  
  
I vaguely realized that the water was becoming very cold very fast. When it was a bout freezing, I realized the water was running clear and that I had become… very… cold.  
  
I turned off the water sighing and stood up. I stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel drying myself off. There was a small amount of light shining in through the window, as the sun was starting to rise. I sighed, dried off some more and went to my room. I get in pajamas and laid down on my bed, my mind deciding that it was drained for the day. I noted that I didn't have anything to do tomorrow, I have very little to do these days.  
  
I still felt cold from the hot to freezing shower. I felt tired over all of that though. I was almost asleep, images from what I did in the last couple of hours vaguely played over in my head.  
  
Man… I was such a… fuck-up.  
  
I fell asleep.  
  
I woke up and my head was pounding and all my muscles felt like shit. I sat up abruptly and went into a coughing fit. I shivered inwardly and sneezed then started coughing again.  
  
Dammit, I was sick.  
  
I thought to the shower I took, very hot to very cold and wondered if that was what had caused me to get sick. I also heard around that a lot of people were getting sick, a minor bug that just makes you feel like shit.  
  
Well damn, the bug caught me.  
  
I stand up and walk to the bathroom, opening the medicine cabinet, finding it devoid of any medicine that could help me. I put my hand to my forehead and guessed it was a bit over normal. I was gonna need –something- if I didn't want to feel like shit.  
  
Not that I would mind, but I realize that it would hurt a hell of a lot to cut while feeling like this.  
  
Logic was thrown out the window again. I wanted to feel better so I could slash myself up.  
  
I sigh and walk back to my room, look at the clock, seeing it's about noon. I pull out some black clothes from the closet and get dressed. I've started wearing black lately, if one of my wounds start to bleed you can't see it on black. That and the pastel colors were slightly… annoying, when clashed against the darkness that seemed to have settled upon my soul in the last few months.  
  
I decided I needed to go to the store to get some medicine. Normally I could have had one of the magunacs go and get something for me, but I wasn't living with them anymore.  
  
Besides, I knew how to drive and I did like driving, I found it calming. I figured I would take a long drive, get lost, end up at a store about three hours away and then find my way back. I can make going to the store an all day experience.  
  
I grabbed the keys off of a desk and went to the car, walking slowly as I was feeling like crap and my back was practically screaming in pain.  
  
I went out to the car, locking the door to my house. I got in the car and started to drive.  
  
I wasn't thrilled at the way I was feeling, and I didn't want to see people. I happened to have grown a slight dislike for large amounts of people.  
  
I wasn't driving cautiously, though it's hard for me to drive recklessly, with my training as a gundam pilot and all.  
  
I just wasn't going out of my way to avoid death.  
  
"not that I have a death wish or anything… heh…" 


	3. Old friends

Chapter three  
  
I skimmed the rows of medicine on the shelf before me, eyeing the Tylenol. My head was an absolute mess. I notice am especially large bottle of Tylenol and pick it up. 5000 who the hell would need 5000 Tylenol? Maybe a family of 7 whom all have a head-banging problem.  
  
I chuckle slightly and take the bottle. I turn quickly as I hear someone coughing like their on their deathbed. My heart practically jumps up my throat. It's him, damn, someone I know! It's been ages since I saw someone.  
  
My heart goes from my throat to my feet and my stomach knots up. I consider turning and running the opposite way. I don't want to feel obligated to have to talk, damn, he would probably want to go somewhere and talk. I don't want that. I had everything figured out. I would leave everyone after the war and do whatever.  
  
Whatever…  
  
He starts coughing again and suddenly I think I would rather help him out or something then just hightail it out of here. He is my friend and I think spending a little time with a friend couldn't hurt that much.  
  
Damn, I sound like one of those self-righteous pricks that always annoy the hell out of me. 'there's always a friend to talk to or somewhere to go that will make you feel happy! There's no need to live such a depressed life.' Goddamn they get on my nerves.  
  
Oh well… I'm not one of those self-righteous pricks, and I won't spend too much time with him. Just, have a little fun.  
  
His cough suddenly sounded very bad. I walked over toward him, not exactly next to him but almost in arm reach.  
  
"Hey Quatre! You don't sound so good! You alright buddy?"  
  
Quatre nearly jumped out of his skin as our eyes met. He went into another coughing fit and looked at me again.  
  
"D-Duo!?!?!?" damn, his eyes were nearly out of his skull.  
  
"yeah, hey, I needed some aspirin, headaches ya know." I explain, damn he looked like I was feeling.  
  
"Oh.. uhmmm ok.. hey, what brings you to earth? I would have thought for sure you would have gone back to space." Quatre asks me calming down a little.  
  
"oh well, ya know, it was easier just to come to earth. No real reason, I like being able to see the moon from earth." I explain, true it wasn't a lie, I did like the moon, but I also wanted to get away from Hilde, not that I don't like her or anything, she's like my sister and all. I just didn't want to be around her forever…  
  
"oh… well, I needed to get some medicine, I'm sick and all, if you couldn't tell." Quatre started coughing again, as if on cue. He turned to the shelf and started skimming through cough medicine again.  
  
"oh.. yeah, you look like crap sorry. Why didn't you get Rashid or one of them to get the medicine for you? I'm surprised that they even let you out of bed like this." Okay, maybe it wasn't my business but I was curious, quite frankly I didn't like how bad Quatre looked, and I didn't think it was just because he was sick.  
  
What surprised me more was the fact Quatre stiffened quite visibly at the remark and I could almost tell from the look on his face that his stomach had dropped.  
  
"uhmmm well.. you see. I'm not living with them anymore." He answers simply. Well that's suspicious, those guys are like one big.. very big, lost puppy dog when dealing with Quatre, they never leave his side practically.  
  
I could tell that Quatre didn't want to talk about it so I let it slide.  
  
"hey duo.. where have you been living? Still living with Hilde?"  
  
my turn. Now my stomach flops and shift feet uncomfortable, thankfully Quatre was coughing too much to take notice of my discomfort.  
  
"well you see, I'm not living with her, we sorta got in a fight and such, you understand right?" okay, it was only a small lie, we didn't exactly get in a fight to say. We just… I didn't want to continue bothering her.  
  
Quatre chuckles and then coughs again, damn he sounded bad. He turns to me, a slight smile on his face, "well, how do you survive?? Last time I heard she had turned into your mother. How do you eat?" okay.. he was joking around with me. Interesting…  
  
"Ahh well, there are a few fast food joints around and I manage to keep up the money. 'sides, the best thing in the world is microwaveable dinners ya know?" I would just joke on back. I had almost forgot how good spirited he could be sometimes.  
  
Quatre had started laughing again, wich immediately sent him into another fit of coughs. I had to catch him as his knees gave way from his coughing fit. He was not in good shape.  
  
"hey Quatre, how long have you had this cough?" I ask, of course I was worried, he's practically my best… comrade.  
  
"I woke up with it." He says while gasping for breath. Now I'm not some doctor or anything, but you usually start out by getting sick and then get worse. If Quatre sounded this bad, and it was the first day it was gonna get worse. That could be bad.  
  
"are you living with someone who could take care of you? You sound really bad…"  
  
Again I watched as I saw the look on his face drop, making me almost feel my stomach flip like Trowa. "I, I don't live with anyone right now."  
  
Damn, there's no way he can live alone with him being that sick. Dammit… this really ruins my plans.  
  
I nearly smack myself. PLANS!? What plans Mr. Duo Maxwell are you talking about! I stop my current train of thought and look at Quatre again. "Well, buddy, I'm afraid I can't let you go livin' alone with a cough like that, " I feel his forehead and damn, he;s most certainly running a fever. "nor with a fever like that."  
  
He just looks at me helplessly, almost scared like. "I don't know duo, I think I can manage, it's just a little cold or soemthing. I'll be fine duom there's no need for you to worry."  
  
I wasn't convinced. "Hey, Quatre, you're my friend, and I'm gonna worry. Look, maybe you could live with me for a week or so until you get better or whenever. I don't mind, I told you I live with no one, and honestly I think we could both use a little company. I don't wanna force you into living with me but I would feel much better knowing that you're safe. Besides, don't you get lonely living all alone and stuff?"  
  
He stood up on his own, supporting himself. I had almost forgot that I was still holding him. He looked at me and smiled softly. "I'm not so sure about getting lonely, but I must admit. I do feel like shit, and living with you for a while doesn't sound like the worst thing that could happen."  
  
I could have tripped and died right there, Quatre the golden boy Winner cursed. I know, it wasn't that bad and I myself have said much worse, still.. hearing it from him, was just… eerie. It then hit me that he accepted my offer to live with me for a while.  
  
I didn't know weather to be happy I could be of help to him or run away screaming and send myself on an early trip to hell.  
  
This could prove to be interesting… Fuck… 


	4. Ill

Disclaimers: I don't own the characters. I wish I did but then again I wish I had a camel. If I owned these characters I would have a camel, and I wouldn't have to go saying I'm a camel now would I? Get the gist? I dun own it so dun sue.. all you would get would be a beanie camel that spits.  
  
Warnings: self-mutilation, language, possible suicide, shounen ai, confusing and random POV and they change and I won't tell you haha!! I am ebil I know…. Oh, watch out for random flying typos, my spell check doesn't like to fix half of them, including lower case 'i's and such.  
  
Pairing: 2x4x2 maybe 1x3x1  
  
Anything else I should let you guys know let me know. Happy reading. Oh and I don't give away whose POV it's in, I like to make you guess all the time. Hahaha  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Dammit. Duo just offered to let me live with him. And I accepted.  
  
Quatre… you are an idiot.  
  
It's not that I have anything against the braided pilot, no way, it's just… I've had a certain dislike for people lately. And goddamn, he was looking like he was so worried about me, it was making me sick, well, sicker.  
  
Speaking of sick, I skimmed the shelves quickly and grabbed a medicine that seemed appropriate for me.  
  
"So, shall we buy our medicine and then head to wherever?" he asked me.  
  
"I guess so, where are we going though?" I had to admit, I needed to know.  
  
"Well, I was thinking we would go to your place to get some of your clothes then off to my place, if that sounds alright."  
  
Alright?? ALRIGHT!?!? I started coughing half on purpose so he wouldn't see me flipping out or anything. We can't go to my place, he can't see my house. If he were to see the mess I made last night… that would be impossible to explain. Dammit Quatre why did you have to go and accept. … I hate it when people care about me, that's why I ran away.  
  
I guess I could have backed out of it somehow. I could have, and I planned on it, I didn't want duo to have to deal with me in a bad mood, no most definitely not. I went to spoke up, "Yeah that sounds like a good idea."  
  
WOAH!!!! What the hell!?!? I didn't just say that!?!? I really wanted to just kick myself. I did not plan to say that. I looked at the relief on duo's face and for a second thought I saw something more then relief, something darker.  
  
I really couldn't stand there and analyze his look as I was quickly overwhelmed by another coughing fit. Damn, I really did sound bad.  
  
I see why duo would worry, I practically sound like a dying animal. If I lived alone and stayed this sick or got worse, I don't think I would come out of it in good shape. Dammit, why did I have to accept duo's offer.  
  
What's even worse is I don't know how I accepted it. I didn't want to, well, maybe a little. I always have been fond of duo, I liked him the best out of the 4 other pilots.  
  
Duo was holding on to a suspiciously large bottle of aspirin, I didn't bother to ask him about it. He started to walk towards the cash registers, and I followed.  
  
We both paid for our medicine and then walked out to the parking lot.  
  
"Where's your car duo?" I asked, looking at duo, who hadn't made any attempt to look at or go to his car.  
  
"I walked here, my house is kinda close. So, do you think we should go to you're place so you can get some stuff then go to mine?"  
  
okay, the situation overall was a little spontaneous and I don't think either one of us knew what exactly it is we were doing.  
  
"Uhmmm.. that sounds good I guess." God, I only hope I can get him to stay in the car while I get my stuff.  
  
We headed toward my car and I got in the driver's seat, duo got in next to me. I started up the car and drive out of the parking lot.  
  
We drove in silence for about three minutes. Duo never did like silence…  
  
"So, Quatre… what have you been up to lately?"  
  
loaded question, why oh why did I have to go to –that- drugstore? "Well, not much really, I've just sort of been hanging out." I say, my coughing seems to have died down the slightest bit, maybe the store was dusty or something.  
  
"Sounds like mountains of fun." He says sarcastically.  
  
"Really, what have you been up to?"  
  
"I've been having mountains of fun." His voice was nearly dripping with sarcasm  
  
I giggle slightly and we end up talking little idle chat for a while. It was actually quite comfortable. We both managed to talk about things without really saying much.  
  
We talked like that for about an hour before duo looked at the clock in the car.  
  
"Hey, Quatre, how far is your house? We've been driving for almost an hour now."  
  
"Oh, it's maybe an hour away still. I like long drives, so I went out of the way today." Duo looked over at me weirdly and then sighed and shook his head.  
  
"You're an odd one sometimes."  
  
Boy, was he right. I didn't want to get too deep or anything though. "Yeah, sometimes."  
  
  
  
We eventually pulled up to my house. Duo looked surprised at how modestly small it was. It was also pretty secluded too.  
  
"Duo, you can wait here while I go get my stuff. I'll be quick."  
  
"You don't want me to help you?" No, most certainly not.  
  
I smiled weakly and shook my head. "No, I'll be ok, I'll be in and out in a minute."  
  
Before he could protest I opened my door and stepped out, shutting it behind me. I started walking up to the house and resisted the urge to just run in and lock the door.  
  
I couldn't run though, my muscles were feeling rather sore from the fever I knew I was running. I wanted to run, I could almost feel duo's eyes burning my back as I walked. I hated the feeling, like he was watching, studying me.  
  
Dammit Quatre! He's your friend! He isn't gonna hurt you! Still.. I can't help but feel watched.  
  
I finally reached the door and, unlocking it, walk in. I walk to where my room is and gather some of my things, moving slower then I normally would.  
  
I was really starting to feel like shit.  
  
I finally get all my things together, mostly black long sleeved shirts and pants.  
  
The lighter colors just started to annoy me after a while, they just seemed so… happy. It was annoying, like they would laugh at me.  
  
I put all my stuff in a suitcase. Before I closed it though, I grabbed my pack of razors out of my drawer and folded them up in a shirt. I closed the suitcase and headed toward the door.  
  
I was sick as hell, my arm and my back especially were burning from the cuts along with the added pain from the fever. I was a mess physically. And so much worse mentally.  
  
And I was doing the stupidest thing in my life.  
  
I was gonna live with duo for a while. 


	5. Not a sin

Disclaimers: I still don't own a camel. You do the math.  
  
*Squeak* new idea new idea *giggles insanely* this could prove to be highly interesting!! *squeal* oh o.o I giggle insanely and squeal when I get a new angst/dark/confusing idea o.o or something on those lines.  
  
Warnings: you should know them by now.. Self-mutilation, shounen ai, depressed notions, self-bondage sooner or later. (new idea: sadomasochism.. possible.. ) Two very confused boys ^______^  
  
Pairings: 2x4x2 sooner or later. There might be 1x3x1 and I'm gonna try top get Wufei in here, somehow, I just realized I like Wufei *cringe* so I have to have him ion here sooner or later. But he won't be paired with anyone.  
  
(ok, time lapse, Quatre just left to get his stuff. Yes, duo's POV lala)  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
I was fiddling with the end of my braid absent-mindedly. Nervous? Me? Never…  
  
Bullshit. I'm not one to loose my calm in a situation, really. This time is just a little different.  
  
Here I was waiting in a car for one of the few people that I actually ever managed to get close to. And I'm waiting for him to come out with his stuff so we can go to my place and he can live with me.  
  
Dammit things couldn't be worse.  
  
I felt that rather large bag of aspirin still in my hands. I looked at it. Painkillers.  
  
It was all I could do to not break out in a panicky hysterical laugh. Painkillers, god, if they only knew how much pain they ended.  
  
It was almost inhuman.  
  
It was fucking inhuman!!  
  
I threw the bottle to the floor of the car not holding any of my strength back. It bounced slightly then rolls on the floor. I didn't care, by that time my knees were pulled up to my chest and my hands here clenched over my ears.  
  
Why did I have to offer for Quatre to come over? Why didn't I just run when I saw him?!  
  
I don't know… I just don't know. What am I gonna do with him there? What if I flip, or something.  
  
Chill out, I don't flip that often.  
  
Besides, Quatre coming over could be a good thing for the both of us. From what I gathered from him, his life is just as boring as mine is.  
  
And it isn't like he's permanently moving in with me, I'm just worried about him and how sick he is.  
  
I worry about the people I care about, it isn't a sin.  
  
I hope.  
  
I look up to see Quatre walking out of his house holding a suitcase. I immediately put my legs down so I don't look like a scared child and put a nice big grin on my face as he puts the suitcase I the trunk and then opens the car door.  
  
He didn't get in yet though, "Hey Duo, do you wanna drive to your place? I don't know where it is and I'm feeling a little dizzy." He asked, I nodded quickly and get out of the car, we switched places and closed out doors.  
  
I started up the car and drove off.  
  
I wasn't really up for a conversation, and it didn't look like Quatre was either, wich I was thankful for. We drove in silence for a while and when I looked over at Quatre just to see if he was all right I saw that he was asleep.  
  
Kinda sucked, kinda didn't, I had little clue where I was but I didn't mind the silence. I actually enjoyed it sometimes.  
  
Sometimes. Sometimes the silence is my worst enemy.  
  
Not literally of course, but the point is made either way.  
  
I look over at Quatre while at a red light and see that he's still sleeping.  
  
I just noticed that his hair has grown a bit, it was falling on his face in such a way that made him look just so…..  
  
  
  
…. Vulnerable.  
  
'Stop it!' I whisper to myself harshly. I started driving as the light turned green.  
  
Though I still couldn't shake the image of how innocent and weak Quatre looked. Like he was just so fragile, so…  
  
I felt myself grin widely without meaning too. I resisted the urge to slap myself right there and then.  
  
…. Vulnerable. Quatre was too good for me to let some of my … darker tendencies take over. He was way too innocent for that.  
  
Innocent… defenseless… I barely managed to control a deep chuckle rising from the back of my throat before purposely taking a deep breath and telling myself mentally to stop this train of thought.  
  
I was almost growling at myself at this point. I was having Quatre live with me so I could help him get better, not so I could do …anything to him.  
  
I growled silently and forced my mind to focus on other things. I gave a sigh of relief and I realized I knew where I was and we would be at my place soon.  
  
Caring about a friend isn't a sin.  
  
I hope. 


	6. Scream

Disclaimers: I still don't own a camel. You do the math.  
  
Warnings: you should know them by now.. Self-mutilation, shounen ai, depressed notions, self-bondage sooner or later. Sadomasochism. ^______^  
  
Pairings: 2x4x2 sooner or later. There might be 1x3x1 and I'm gonna try to get Wufei in here, somehow, I just realized I like Wufei *cringe* so I have to have him in here sooner or later. But he won't be paired with anyone.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Quatre, we're home now." Duo said, shaking my shoulder to wake me up.  
  
I shrugged myself awake. Duo was already out of the car, I noticed he also had my suitcase. I got out too.  
  
We walked up to his house, wich didn't seem too big, and he just opened the door and walked in. hmm.. Maybe he was too careless to lock it.  
  
I followed him in and he put my suitcase down and went on a quick little cleaning rampage. The place wasn't a mess, but it wasn't a neat freak's ideal living area.  
  
It was well, Duo-like.  
  
I loved how almost everything was either black or close to it.  
  
It was really Duo-like.  
  
I didn't really get to look around too much before yawning.  
  
"Oh, you want me to show you around real quick?" Duo says, tossing some junk he picked up in a corner somewhere, "there's two bed rooms and a bathroom, a kitchen and this room. That's about it." Duo walked around quickly, pointing out the rooms, I stood in pretty much the same spot.  
  
He pointed to a room, "you can sleep in this room, it's pretty much clean. There's a bed in there, don't know how good it is, but I wasn't really expecting company. Sorry Quatre."  
  
"It's alright." I yawned again, and saw a clock on a shelf, 10:24. Wow, time flew by… I shrugged. "I think I'm just gonna go to bed, if that's alright."  
  
Duo nodded. I went and got my suitcase and went in the room Duo said I could sleep in.  
  
"Oh, and Quatre, if you need anything feel free to knock on my door or whatever."  
  
I agreed and closed the door.  
  
I turned my back to the door and skimmed the room quickly. Pretty plain really, the walls were white, and there wasn't much besides a bed and a brown dresser, and a few boxes in the corner of the room. I guessed that Duo didn't really spend anytime in this room.  
  
I put the suitcase down and flopped on the bed, lying on my back.  
  
I wanted to scream, I wanted to curl up into a pathetic little ball and scream, I wanted to lose it. I wanted to cut. I wanted to cut….  
  
What the HELL was I doing?? How the hell did I end up here! How did I end up like this??? How did I get so fucked so badly?? How did I end up here with duo? I ran away from my old 'home;' because I didn't like how people were caring for me.  
  
I couldn't stand how those maganaucs were acting like they were worried about me. I never let anyone see what I was doing to myself, I never wanted anyone to see.  
  
Oh god… I was living with duo..  
  
It probably wasn't as bad as I was making it all out to be, duo probably wont find out about my bad habit.  
  
There's no way he could, I mean, I always wear long sleeves and stuff. Its not like I'm even gonna be here that long.  
  
What if somehow he does see my arms…?  
  
Then what?  
  
I can't make up an excuse for the amount of scars on my arms; there's no explanation.  
  
What if he tries to talk or something?  
  
What if he asks why I wasn't living with anyone? I don't think he would buy me just running away because I suddenly didn't like how worried the magunacs were about me lately. I didn't want him to know about what I did.  
  
I rolled over, shrinking into a little ball, my hands over my ears, and closed my eyes; I was tired, but not asleep.  
  
I don't even know why I accepted his offer.  
  
I just don't know…  
  
I don't know anything, why I accepted Duo's offer, why I ran away from 'home', why I cut, why I've been so … fucked up lately.  
  
I think my mind wants to take over and screw up my life.  
  
I really don't know anything about myself at this point.  
  
Except I don't want Duo's or anyone's pity.  
  
And I hate myself for all the lives I have taken. 


	7. Disciplined Breakdown

It's 2:44 am. I'm still awake, I'm dead tired, had a long day, but cant sleep.  
  
So here I am, up late at night, stomach in about a hundred knots razor in hand.  
  
I should be alone, but I'm not, my best friend is in the room next to me, sleeping. I checked to make sure he was asleep before taking out my razors.  
  
I didn't want him to know.  
  
I hadn't cut myself yet, but I knew I would, I couldn't get this far and then not cut.  
  
But I had a sickeningly strong desire to cut my wrists tonight.  
  
My wrist was still healing from the last time I got that desire. About 70 little red lines mar the skin from the wrist to the elbow. None deep enough to have killed me, of course, but the fact remains… nothing feels quite as satisfying as thin, sharp pain right above a vein. Nothing so sweet as the thought that I mutilated my own wrists.  
  
Nothing as wonderful as the fact that at anytime I could slip and end it all.  
  
I smile grimly as I put the razor to my wrist.  
  
I could end it now. I could slit that little blue vein and watch my life flow freely to its end. I could end this all, all these thoughts, all these nights like this. I could end my world.  
  
But I cant.  
  
Its not my choice, no matter how deep I were to cut I wouldn't die. I don't know why, I don't know how, but I can't die.  
  
I've tried, and failed. There have been attempts on my life that failed.  
  
There were too many times I could have died but didn't. Too many. I'm not lucky enough to die. I've faced that fact before, tested it to its limits. It won't work.  
  
I just won't die.  
  
So I take my silvery friend, the only friend I can ever count on. My friend I can control. I tell it to do something and it obeys without another word.  
  
He will never disobey me; he will never fail or falter. He will never let me down.  
  
He will help me destroy myself, help me make this life I cannot get away from bearable.  
  
I drag the razor across a thin part of my wrist that isn't already scarred.  
  
The pain is wonderful. The pure bliss is found in the sharp stinging of my skin splitting, oh so easily. I watch with pure wonder as blood starts to well up where my friend did his job best.  
  
I've seen it so many times, but it will never stop being so refreshing.  
  
One cut, one mark on my wrist. One more scar.  
  
Not enough. Never enough…  
  
I find another part of my wrist that has barely enough room to cut, but I cut it anyway, deeper then the first one.  
  
Another free spot… deeper. Deeper, deeper, deeper.  
  
It's wonderful. Even if at this point I'm not cutting my wrist but more closer to my elbow, its still on that soft, scar-able skin.  
  
From my wrist to my elbow, I run my obedient little friend through any skin that doesn't have a fresh mark on it.  
  
I love the blood; I hold my arm up in front of my face so that little rivers of red life flow freely down my arm. I watch with sadistic fascination as the blood flows down and drips off onto an already bloodstained towel.  
  
I watch until the arm is no longer mine. I'm not even here right now. I don't know where I am, but I'm not here.  
  
Subconsciously I know the bleeding arm is mine, but it doesn't feel right, doesn't look right. Nothing does.  
  
Nothing here exists in moments like these.  
  
Like I'm locked in a box, nothing seems real, I get like this a lot. An awful lot actually, but when I do things like this it just gets stronger.  
  
Time seems to slow, or disappear completely, everything does. My vision is blurry, well, its different, I don't think that there is a word for what is looked like. Like I'm looking at this world through glass, it's clear but… not really… there.  
  
And at times like these nothing exists expect my thoughts and the arm. I focus on the bleeding arm to the point where nothing else is there, everything around it is black.  
  
I can't feel anything. Its like a dream where, you can almost believe that what you see is real, but it isn't. And you know it isn't, but you cant notice that now.  
  
All I'm experiencing right now is a dream, a movie about a poor fucked up boy.  
  
Its wonderful is the frighteningness of it all. How I can feel so distinctly disconnected from myself. I love it.  
  
I love the blood that isn't mine rolling freely off the arm that isn't mine.  
  
Love the pain I inflicted on this poor helpless boy.  
  
I love how much I make him suffer. I love it all.  
  
This is what I live for.  
  
Yes, this moment right here, this is what makes this world so bearable in times when all I wish for is the end of everything.  
  
I could sit here for hours like this, completely blank. I could stay like this forever but I never can. I always get dragged back…  
  
I can tell that the wounds are starting to stop their flow.  
  
I'm suddenly starting to feel more connected to this world.  
  
I sigh heavily and pick up the towel. I find a spot that is remotely dry and wipe the blood away from the cuts. They were still bleeding but only slightly, some had already stopped. I quickly counted the freshest of the cuts.  
  
Call it a sick sort of pride, but the more cuts the more pleasure I get out of the whole ordeal.  
  
56.  
  
Damn… if only my arms were longer. It could have been more.  
  
Looking closer at my arm I can tell I had cut over some older scars, and even overlapped some fresher ones.  
  
Love it.  
  
Then my whole world sort of flipped along with my stomach and my heart Someone knocked on my door.  
  
"Duo….?" Quatre's soft voice came from the other side of the door.  
  
Fuck. 


	8. Delirious

Disclaimer: I hate disclaimers. I don't own a camel for crying out loud I don't own them…. Heh…..  
  
Warnings: Cliffhanger. Whaha! Love them. Uhmmm.. This one is short. O.o but it had to be. Cuz I wanna torture you all!!! Haha!!! Uhmmm.. this chapter might make you think weird things, but this is rated pg-13 (I think I should change it to R.. ya think?) and there won't be any lemons. No scenes like that, I don't write that, sorry . have fun!!!  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
  
  
Fuck.  
  
I quickly wiped my arm with the towel again, and threw it under my bed. I picked up my shirt from the floor and pulled it on, in a panicked quick motion.  
  
I wiped my face with my hands; sighing and trying not to look as panicked as I really was and went over to the door.  
  
I opened the door, grinning to the best of my ability at Quatre. He stared back at me for a minute then walked in, I noticed he wasn't walking very straight.  
  
"Quatre…? Are you okay?" I asked as he walked past me, not even giving me a look. He turned slowly to face me.  
  
Our eyes met and I knew he wasn't being himself at the moment. He looked. Far away.  
  
"Hmmmm…..?" he looked at me, obviously dumbfounded at my question.  
  
I put my hand to his forehead. Damn, he was burning up. He was probably delirious with a fever. He was acting delirious by all means.  
  
"Quatre, maybe you should go back to sleep." my heart was starting to beat on a more normal level.  
  
For a second I thought he was about to catch me during one of my little 'adventures'  
  
"But… I'm… I'm not tired. I woke up.," he said staring blankly at me, blinking slightly.  
  
I helped him walk over to my bed, as he wasn't very steady on his own feet, and somewhat forced him to sit down. I sat next to him.  
  
"Quatre, how often do you get sick?"  
  
"I dunno…. Not…. Too often I think… not sure…" his voice sounded almost eerily distant.  
  
He was probably really sick, because he doesn't get sick much. He does look worse then he used too. He was always thin, but looking at him now he seems much thinner and paler too.  
  
And I was still confused at the fact he was living alone.  
  
I had a creepy feeling that something was wrong with him.  
  
And I was feeling still pretty disconnected with how I feel. The pain in my wrist wasn't the cause, this time. When Quatre knocked on the door it startled me. Hard to explain how things happen with me, but when I got startled my world sorta ran.  
  
I can still participate in this world, and all that other stuff that is required, but I don't really feel like I'm thinking about doing this. Watching a movie, or something, it feels like it could be happening, but… it really isn't.  
  
This way I feel now is worse then before when I cut my wrist, I feel disconnected, almost enough to scare me.  
  
If I could be scared that is. Too calm to be scared, disconnected calm.  
  
With Quatre, sick as he is. It's times like these I wish I had control.  
  
Control is a funny word if you think about it…  
  
I looked over at Quatre. He looked so damn sweet and innocent, eyes wide and confused, his small form wavering slightly in his dizzy state. So defenseless.  
  
Stop this.. stop this.. stop this!!!!!!!!!  
  
But… you can never stop this monster within.  
  
I've lost control of myself. Or at least I've lost control. To what? I don't know.  
  
I lock eyes with Quatre. I grinned, evily, sadistically, the smirk creeping up into my eyes, filling them with a life that isn't my own.  
  
It's times like these where I am in control. 


	9. Control

Disclaimers: no camel, no own, no happyness.  
  
Warnings: this chapter itself.. the only warning should be 'confusing' but other then that this chapter isn't really bad and all.  
  
Oh, and I updated I think chapter 6 and seven. (made them better, I reread them and I thought they sucked. So I updated them. If you want to read go ahead, most stayed the same I just added some more description and more interestinish thoughts.)  
  
  
  
I lock eyes with Quatre. I grinned, evily, sadistically, the smirk creeping up into my eyes, filling them with a life that isn't my own.  
  
He didn't look scared. He didn't really look like he was feeling anything. He looked like I feel.  
  
The look didn't suit him. He doesn't look right being so vacant, his eyes are usually brimming with emotion. Weather it be happiness, sadness, or anger. He always manages to nearly scream how he's feeling just by opening his eyes.  
  
There needed to be something in his eyes, some emotion, something, something to make this real, he didn't look real.  
  
Nothing looked real. And the empty look he had was… bone chilling. Unreal.  
  
Fear.  
  
He needed an emotion, needed something, anything. He needed fear.  
  
Why my mind settled on that emotion, I don't know. It's a strong emotion, fear is what controls our life, not happiness, not sadness, fear.  
  
Fear stops you from doing things as well as makes you do things. More then other emotions fear controls out actions. In fear there is barely a line between rational and irrational. Sanity and insanity are blurred by fear.  
  
Fear suited him so well.  
  
NO! Fear doesn't suit him… it really doesn't. But…. It… just… does.  
  
I continued to stare at Quatre, stare to his eyes. Cold and empty, no trace of anything. It almost felt weird he could be this sick, to get this delirious.  
  
"Quatre…" I said, well. More like I heard, the voice didn't sound like it was mine. It sounded to low, too smooth, like it had been practiced to perfection. It sounded different, cold too. Not empty, far from empty, cold, harsh, smooth, taunting even. It was different from my own voice, it didn't even feel like I said it.  
  
He didn't respond, but more brought his gaze into focus and looked at me. He looked more like he was looking through me, real spaced out. I didn't like that either, looking like I wasn't even there.  
  
He was tired, sick and delirious. And I am a monster.  
  
He was looking at me like I wasn't even there. I wanted him to –see- me, to feel me. I wanted him to know who I was, what I was on the inside. I wanted him to see what I really was.  
  
See what I wanted to do to him. I wanted him to look inside me and scream at what he saw, get so scared I wouldn't have to act out what I so desperately want to.  
  
I want to scare him. I want to hurt him, watch him writhe in pain in such a sickeningly sweet way. Want to watch him bleed, watch him suffer.  
  
I want him to look at me with fear, be afraid of me. Know that I can do what I want to him and he would have no power to stop me.  
  
I want to have control of him.  
  
And I plan to do exactly that.  
  
"Hey Quatre," my voice says with uncharacteristic smoothness, "wanna play a little game?"  
  
He didn't answer me. He didn't even flinch when I talked. His eyes were fixed on something past me.  
  
I wondered, if he was in his own little world. Safe from harm, completely oblivious to what was happening around him. I wondered if he liked it there, wondered if he was happy. His eyes were still fixed behind me.  
  
I wonder if his little world wasn't so happy. If maybe he wasn't oblivious to the world around him. Maybe his views of the world were even deeper then anyone else. Maybe his little world was this world, but instead of it being the world we all see. Maybe he sees past this world, -sees- this world, knows everything about it. Maybe he lives in his own little world. His own little hell.  
  
Maybe his little world tortures him… maybe it doesn't.  
  
Maybe he doesn't have a little world.  
  
I didn't turn to see what he was looking at, my eyes were locked with his. He wasn't afraid, he wasn't… he was barely there.  
  
I wondered how I looked. If I looked the same. If he could tell how… if he could tell how disconnected from this I felt. I wonder if he will remember this, if he will remember what I am. I wonder if he knows how much it will hurt me.  
  
I wonder if I would be able to use it as an excuse.  
  
I wonder…  
  
I know.  
  
I know! I know he's delirious, I know he cant think straight! I know he probably won't remember this in the morning!  
  
I know he has a little world. We all do!  
  
I know my fucked world is what makes me like this!!  
  
*THUD*  
  
Fuck.  
  
Quatre's head had hit the wall sharply. I had him pinned against the wall.  
  
He was blinking heavily as if he was trying to stay conscious.  
  
I didn't even remember standing up.  
  
I know I should stop this…  
  
I've lost control.  
  
  
  
Finally anopther chapter done… I was gonna make this a long one but I love the cliffhangers too much..  
  
About the *THUD* lol, there's a story to that.. at first I wrote *THUNK* then I read what I wrote and nearly died laughing. So I went to ask my mom what noise a head makes when it gets bashed to a wall..she said 'splat' … I didn't like it so I went to my sister and told her to stand near a wall. She wouldn't.. I asked again and she still wouldn't. so I sat of the top part of a couch (the only way I could get near a wall) and promtly knocked my head into the wall. After I could ehar again .; I asked my sister what sound I made.. (here eyes were wide at the thought that I was gonna do that to her) then my mom and my sister at the same time said 'THUD' so I left, trying to walk straight, and typed *THUD* so if it sounds childish –YOU- bash your head into a wall.  
  
*end rant*  
  
REVIEW!!! I fixed it so it accepts everyone not hjust authours reviews, so you have no excuse not to. Please review!! If I don't get.. at least…. 2 -.- ;; (some people ask for like .. 10 or 20) I wont continue with the story. So please.. review!!!!!!! 


	10. Lie of Perfection

Hey, sorry it took so -damn- long to update.. I really.. ,.. ok.. I hadn't even been trying to write. Well.. here it is. The hardest thing I ever wrote x.x uhmmm yeah.. not.. ok.. yeah it was hard to write this. Anyway I don't care if this chapter seems kinda bad, at this point I needed to finish and update and move on. Heh, I wouldn't be surprised if people thought I was dead o.o.. only half dead, don't worry.. I can still write x.x  
  
Warnings: bondage-ish stuff.. torture.. nothing like.. well.. I don't wanna spoil it.. bad language (?) some religious themes (I don't want to offend, but its my sort of personal belief.. or disbelief as some might say.. *is an atheist* so.. please ~_~ I don't want to offend anyone) and shounen ai(?) Uhm. may be confusing if that's a warning.. Twisted. Very very twisted.. probably due to lack of sleep, overload of caffeine and a uhm. bad mood (and extremely loud music.. nine inch nails none the less yup.. I wont hear for a week ) . Well.. it might not seem too twisted but if you like.. -think- .. its.. esh. I'm confusing myself, you read for yourself. uh... please review .; oh.. and.. warning.  
  
FIRE. (btw, there isn't going to be any 'yaoi' in this .. just shounen ai, so don't expect lemons.. or limes for that matter, I don't write that stuff .) (maybe -slight- lime.. .;;; *very* slight in this chapter) (long warning @_@)  
  
PLOT-oh, and btw, this plot takes place after the series gundam wing, before endless waltz, uhmmm.. lets say that EW never happens, I like working with the g-boys as younger boys .;; its just.. this thing I do, bear with me.  
  
Disclaimer: yeah.. I own the idea.. I think .; and .. uhmmm.. the characters at this point own me.. so.. you cant have me so don't sue them.  
  
Note: beauty is pain. or. pain is beauty?  
  
Chapter ten  
  
I had lost control  
  
Quatre was pinned to the wall, I was holding him. I had him. Right where I wanted him.  
  
I had lost control.  
  
Things were like a dream, a movie, myself watching things happen. Quatre still didn't look scared, more dazed then he was before if anything. I had him by the shoulders, pinning him to the wall.  
  
I had lost control, I could feel myself pulled within myself. I wasn't there, I didn't want this to happen, and I couldn't stop it.  
  
I had kept him pinned to the wall with one had while I leaned over and opened a drawer to a little desk that was near my bed. I pulled a pair of handcuffs out of the drawer, slipping the key into my braid.  
  
I stopped pinning Quatre to the wall, he looked like he was still trying to clear his vision, and he was distant before the matter, there was no way he could resist at this point.  
  
I pulled his hands behind his back and put the handcuffs on his wrists, closing them a little tighter then they probably should have been.  
  
He still didn't look scared. Why the hell didn't he look scared?!  
  
Dammit, he's a gundam pilot for crying out loud, he's seen a lot worse then this. Hell, being handcuffed and pinned to a wall is nothing.  
  
Still.. I'm.. shouldn't I be his friend? Isn't it different to see a friend purposely hurting you.  
  
Shouldn't that scare someone?  
  
Why.. why isn't he scared!?  
  
He looks so .. perfect. he's got practically everything, he has money, he has a home, and he has friends. he's got almost everything a person could want.  
  
He's perfect. innocent but not naïve, strong but not dangerous. He's smart, charming, the works.  
  
I'm a piece of trash.  
  
And he still doesn't look scared.  
  
I roughly jerked him from against the wall and shoved him on the bed. I heard him cough, but I didn't see how he landed or what he was doing, as I was too preoccupied with grabbing a lighter out of the draw I took the handcuffs out of.  
  
I turned to face him and he was lying face up on the bed, I noticed a slight grimace of pain grace his soft features. he looked like he might have been trying to move his hands, but with no luck, as they were still handcuffed behind his back.  
  
I slowly got on the bed too, and positioned myself so that I was sitting on his lap with my legs to either side of him. I stare at him for a few moments, and he seems to be laying so still that I could almost mistake him for being asleep. And I think. that if maybe this were a different time.. a different day.. this position might have been something that we both would have agreed too, there wouldn't be any chains.. or lighters, or razors in my life, and that the only thing that would be in my life would be -him-.  
  
But it isn't that day. And I doubt that day will ever happen.  
  
I place my hand on his chest and can feel by the way that he's breathing that he's still conscious, but struggling to stay that way. I slowly run my hand up his chest, leaning over to see him a little better and then I place my hand on the side of his head. I stroke the side of his face and can feel his skin burning underneath my hand.  
  
He really is strong.. to be so sick.. and to have hit his head so hard and still be slightly conscious.  
  
So strong.. yet.. so weak.  
  
His cheeks are slightly pink due to the fever and his brow glistens slightly from being damp. He looks so fragile. almost enough to make me just want to take him in my arms and tell him I'll protect him and tell him that everything will be alright. I caress the side of his face with my hand again and trace the contour of his neck with my finger down until I reach the collar of his shirt. Leaning back so I'm sitting upright, I clench the material of his shirt in my hand and pull sharply on it, forcefully dragging him into a sitting position, his face about six inches from my own.  
  
His eyes were open but I felt him go limp slightly while still holding his shirt and saw in his eyes that his vision was definitely going black. He paled significantly to where he was so fair that he almost looked ethereal. angelic.  
  
Then I remembered the lighter in my other hand. I brought my hand close to his face, and with one quick flick of my thumb the lighter sparked and took flame. I could feel the waves of heat it was producing on my face, and knew that Quatre could too, as it was closer to his face, dangerously close.  
  
The fire shimmered on his face, and against the pallor of his skin only made him look that much more like an ethereal being out of a dream.  
  
"You look like an angel Quatre," I said with a voice much lower then normal, " but you aren't an angel Quatre. angels don't exist, and cant exist. For if an angel existed, then there would have to be a god would there not? And if there was a god. how would he be able to live with himself, knowing what he puts some people through?"  
  
Quatre obviously didn't respond, instead he stared into the tiny flame barely an inch from his face. He stared so intently that I almost thought that the flame would magnify in his eyes and just completely engulf the both of us in it's angry, burning arms, consume the both of us, feed off of our flesh, our anger, our being, and grow. Grow until it destroyed everything, the house, the town, the entire world, just continue growing, feeding off of humans, of human emotions, anger. A fire devised not of a spark and flame, but of the soul, born from the spark of the worldly soul. A fire to signify the burning rage that everyone feels at one time in their life. at least once. A burning rage to suffocate the planet in its flames. the flames of everyone's personal hell.  
  
With a slight puff of air I extinguished the flame, and dropped the lighter on the bed. I almost notice a slightly disappointed look in Quatre's eyes, but quickly brush it off.  
  
Still holding Quatre in the sitting position by his shirt, I place the hand that was holding the lighter on the side of his face and slowly start to repeatedly run my hand through his wispy blond hair.  
  
"Perfect," I sigh heavily and continue talking with a much softer voice then before, "Oh Quatre. you have no idea how perfect you are. Eyes so wise and yet still innocent, words so honest and pure. skin.. so. unmarred. such perfect skin." I softly stroke the side of his face with my fingers. "When compared to me, Quatre. you are an image of perfection, while I am such a hideous monstrosity, I being stained from the inside out. Your so beautiful it hurts Quatre." I hold his head in both my hands and place my forehead against his, feeling his fever, burning. I sigh softly. "So perfect Quatre. So. Fucking. Perfect."  
  
I reach into my braid and take the key to the handcuffs out. Then, with one hand I unlock the handcuffs, freeing his hands. Moving my hands to the collar of his shirt I begin to undo the buttons, thinking back to the razor I have hidden under my pillow on this very bed. Nothing is perfect, nothing can stay perfect.  
  
To mar perfection is a sin, but isn't perfection in itself a greater sin.?  
  
I finish undoing the buttons of his shirt and begin to slide it off his shoulders when my fingers brush against something sickeningly familiar yet frighteningly out of place. I couldn't even begin to fathom what it was until I saw it.  
  
I snapped my head away from his and without any support he fell limply backwards onto the bed.  
  
FUCKING HELL! His arms are covered in scars.  
  
Just like mine.  
  
Just. Like. Mine.  
  
I suddenly felt very cold. I realized I was still sitting on his lap and I sprung up onto my feet and stumbled backwards, bracing myself on the desk by the bed, staring at him.  
  
Staring at him and his scars.  
  
The image of perfection. no.  
  
The lie of perfection.  
  
Those scars weren't accidental, not for a minute could anyone think they were.  
  
Quatre cuts himself. Just like I do.  
  
My first reaction was fear. I tried. oh fuck, I -tried- to scare him. and he was never scared. and one fucking realization and I'm thrown back in shock and fear. Fear of him.  
  
Fear of small 16-year-old boy unconscious and sick, lying on a bed.  
  
I stumble over to the bed and sit next to him, definitely paler then normal, and shaking slightly. I slowly begin to button his shirt back up, my hands shaking noticeably. I finished buttoning his shirt and stared with a blank expression at his sleeping form.  
  
I figured I should get him back to his own bed, and hope to hell that when he wakes up he doesn't remember anything. One thing for sure though, he is going to have one fuck of a headache when he does wake up.  
  
I stood up, taking a deep breath, calming myself a bit. I gathered his body in my arms and, trying not to wake him, I carried him back into the guestroom and laid him down on the bed for him.  
  
I could barely look at him at this point. I turned and nearly fled out of the room, closing the door and going back into my room.  
  
I the door had barely slammed before I was throwing my shirt back on the floor and throwing myself on the bed, reaching under my pillow for the razor.  
  
I stared at my arm for about three seconds, taking in the amount of damage I did earlier this night, the whole part of my arm from my wrist to about my elbow was red with fresh wounds and dried blood. And I didn't give a damn.  
  
I took the razor in my hand and raised it slightly before quickly bringing it down on my lower wrist, in one quick, angry slash.  
  
  
  
  
  
~~~~  
  
A/n: hey, uhmmm yeah.. FYI, I know that it might have seemed a little corny with everything (razor, handcuffs, and lighter.) all -right- there, but I promise you.. it will be explained ^_^;; and it wasn't all just there for like.. no reason or anything like it sorta seems to be.. yeah.. well.. ok.. I'm tired.. 5 am @_@; goodnight.. Reviews will be greatly appreciated. 


	11. For now

Disclaimers: dun own dun sue. .... please.. I dun have .. anything x.x  
  
Warnings: for this chapter.. none really.. uhmnmm.. its not even that dark or angsty. e-yeah,.  
  
Note: yesh o.o;; I was as sick as Quatre when I started writing this about three months ago. And yes.. I -still- remember how shitty I felt x.x so .. things are as accurate as I can remember.. and yes o.o;; I did get delirious during one night o.o;;; but.. that's another story.. .;; happy readin.  
  
  
  
Chapter 11  
  
I slowly blinked my eyes open and for one very short blissful moment I felt almost total peace. Until the real world gripped my consciousness and sent me into a coughing fit, wich sent me to turn to the side so it was easier to cough. I either was on a very small bed or sleeping on the edge, because when I turned over, I fell off. I hit the floor, landing mainly on my head, neck, and shoulder, wich made me quickly realize that my head was pounding with pain that dulled my vision and made my ears ring to a deafening point. Continuing my coughing fit, wich only made my head worse, I realized my stomach and chest was sore from coughing so much the other day, and that made it only that much harder to find a few scarce seconds to breathe before coughing again. Eventually my coughing subsided long enough for me to sit myself up against the bed and run my hand through my sweat soaked hair, I also noticed my arms, wrists especially, were sore as hell, for god knows what reason. I groaned at the horrible wake up call and immediately went into another coughing fit.  
  
This was not going to be a good day.  
  
Eventually I managed to stand up and, moving slowly, walked over to where I dropped the bottle of medicine I had bought at the store the other day. I sat on the edge of the bed, and opened the bottle. I took a gulp straight from the bottle without bothering to read anything on the label. I figured it wouldn't kill me, and even if it did, at this point I wouldn't mind in the least.  
  
Standing up again I figured I should try to find duo. I wasn't feeling better yet, but I could walk without my head feeling like it was on the other side of the room, if I walked slow enough that is. So, I slowly made my way to the door, wich thankfully wasn't too far from the bed. I opened the door and walked out.  
  
I heard sounds from the kitchen, and figured that's where duo was. I walked over to the kitchen and stood in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe for support, watching duo cooking something on the oven. If I didn't feel like shit I would have laughed, since he was wearing an apron and was humming a song, occasionally singing some words.  
  
He turned to do something and saw me, he looked pretty shocked, and he almost seemed to be scared, but I guess I cant think straight, so I don't know. I tried to say hi, but it came out as an incoherent mumble.  
  
" Yo.. Hi Quatre.. sorry to say but you look like shit. an' that's insulting the shit." He walked over to me and put his hand on my forehead. "and you're fever hasn't gotten much better. Do I dare ask how you feel?"  
  
I grunted softly and just shook my head slightly. I wasn't up for any kind of conversation or quick movement. I happen to like standing on my feet, not rolling on my knees coughing up my lungs, thank you.  
  
"That good eh? Do you want some aspirin or anything? How about breakfast, I made eggs, there's enough for the two of us."  
  
I shrugged slightly.  
  
"Okay.. I know you might not feel hungry but you should eat. It'll help you feel better."  
  
I shrugged again and he helped me walk over to the table and take a seat. I sat down and started to cough again, while duo patted my back softly. I finished coughing and put my head in my arms, sighing heavily.  
  
I was trying to breathe lightly, as my throat seems really dry and breathing too much would send me into a coughing fit. Even with the light breathing, I would occasionally cough lightly. Even if the cough was light I could still tell that my throat hurt. Badly.  
  
About a minute later duo set a plate in front of me and sat down on the opposite side of the table from me. I picked my head up and looked at the food on the plate : eggs, and there was a glass of orange juice next to it. It took me a few seconds to notice that there were three aspirins in front of the glass too. I looked up at duo, he was already looking at me. my headache was still making my vision slightly blurry so I couldn't really make out how he was looking at me.  
  
"I figured you would want something for your headache." He said.  
  
I cleared my throat, surprisingly not coughing as much again, and tried to speak, my voice pretty hoarse, "How early is it??"  
  
He chuckled. "its almost 3 in the afternoon Quatre. this is my lunch, not breakfast, you were sleeping.. quite a while."  
  
I raised my eyebrows, but decided to trust duo on the time, hell, he's the one who can think clear enough to know what 2+2 is. "how.. how did you know I had a headache?" I took the aspirin in my hand and swallowed all three with the orange juice.  
  
"I can tell just by looking at you, you really don't look good.."  
  
He sure was right about that. At this point, it felt like my head was in a vice grip, with someone continually cranking it tighter and tighter.. until it gets to the point where you think your skull will just crack, forcing your eyes to sort of pop out and sending fragmented pieces of your skull into your brain. Ending it all of course. however, they don't crank it that far..  
  
Damn.  
  
I poked at the eggs with the fork, not that hungry. My stomach wasn't feeling very well and my throat was sore, so eating didn't really seem like something I wanted to do at the moment. I knew that eating something would be better then nothing though, but eggs didn't really look like something I wanted. So I settled for trying to drink more of the orange juice, though it burned the back of my throat while drinking it, it still tasted good.  
  
I yawned, coughed, groaned, poked at the eggs some more, and realized I wasn't going to be eating anything for a while. I sighed heavily, coughed lightly, and pushed the plate away from me. I folded my arms on the table and rested my head on them once again.  
  
Duo just sat there watching me the whole time. He didn't even say anything to me.  
  
I picked my head up and looked at him, my vision was starting to clear a little bit but my head was still pounding and my ears ringing.  
  
I cleared my throat. "duo.. would it be alright if I took a shower?"  
  
He blinked and looked like he was focusing on me after zoning out or something and nodded quickly "Yeah, sure Quatre, uhm, the shower is over there, there should be an extra towel in there. Uhm.. yeah.. take your time and what not. You think you'll be okay though?"  
  
"Yeah.. I'll be fine." I stood up and slowly walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind me.  
  
I moved slower then normal with every motion for the fact that all my muscles burned slightly with fever. I took my time to get undressed and when I pulled off my shirt I caught sight of my arm and the recent cuts near the top. Somewhere I almost felt a shock at the way my arm looks but I really didn't care. I finished getting undressed and turned the shower on making the water warm, but not hot like the other night.  
  
I step into the shower and just go to my normal sitting position with my knees to my chest and let the warm water wash over me, soaking my hair. The water stings the fresher cuts on my back and arm slightly but after a few seconds its barely noticeable. The steam from the water makes my throat feel not as dry so I take a few deep breathes without coughing for the first time in what seems like forever but is really only a couple of days.  
  
Its odd how sometimes when your sick it feels like time slows down, or that you'll forever be that way, never be able to breath as freely or move as quickly. I know its not the way things are, but it just seems that way. Kinda like. you can't expect to see the light when you just walk into the tunnel.  
  
My thoughts wander to duo and the pity he's giving me.  
  
Did I ever mention I hate pity?  
  
Oh well.. I don't really care. I don't know what's going to happen with me staying at duos, and I pretty much know that once I'm better he'll let me go back to my place.  
  
There's always too much to think about. but right now.  
  
I don't wanna think about it.. just try to let everything wash away with the water.  
  
For now.  
  
  
  
~~~  
  
a/n ... light and fluffy... for me at least.. esh.. next chapter expect it to be all morbid angsty-ness again ^_^ whee 


	12. Shame

Disclaimers: they owe me.. dun sue them, I don't think you -would- want me ^_^;  
  
Warning: uhmmm this one is.. well.. language warning (vereh bad word kiddies!! Never use these words around adults.. you get in monja trouble.. unless you have parents who dun care, then you just make them look at you oddly and go 'eh?').. and uhmmm.. kinda.. yukiness factor ^_^ (Grey matter stew .. yum yum.) ^___________^ hehehe I had fun writing this.. probably too much fun writing this for the good of my mental .. uhmmm.. insanity.. nope no sanity left.. none whatsoever *twitch* *chews on the napkin and grins all wide maniac like giggling madly* squeak!  
  
Time lapse again: Quatre just left for the shower.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
Shame.  
  
I watched Quatre closed the door to the bathroom. I slid my back down against the counter in the kitchen until I was sitting on the floor. I slammed the back of my head against the counter. Then I slammed my head into it again.. and again.  
  
Shame.  
  
Such a fucking powerful word.  
  
I raked my fingers through my bangs sighing heavily and then punched the floor growling slightly.  
  
"dammit." I ran both my hands through my bangs again, "dammit.." I grabbed the back of my braid with my one hand and pulled it tightly, "DAMMIT!" I punched the floor with both my hands and slammed the back of my head into the wall behind me forcefully.  
  
I didn't want to do a damn fucking thing. I didn't want to be here, I didn't want Quatre to be here, and I didn't want to cut, FUCK! I didn't even want to breathe.  
  
"Shame" my voice sounded empty, almost not even real, hell when does it actually sound real?  
  
But the word was there, even if my voice wasn't, the word itself screamed out so fucking loudly that I still think it's a miracle, or a curse that my head hasn't completely blown up. or even better, having the word scream so loudly in my mind that it fries all the nerves and sends me into a one way trip down the path of destruction. Fucking frying my mind, sending me completely over the deep end.  
  
Hell, maybe I would have a razor.. going insane enough to just hack the fucking hell out of me and slowly bleed to death. Relish in the satisfying feeling of the warm thick blood flowing out of me, taking all the insanity with it, the madness some fucked people call a life.  
  
Even if I didn't have a razor, I could kill myself with practically anything, drown my self in the tub, hanging myself from a tree or something, taking a shitload of pills, hell,. I could gouge my eye out with a plastic spoon and then either bleed to death or shove the spoon into my brain and make grey matter stew.  
  
Nah, I would be to cursed to die, I could probably take a hundred pills, slash my wrists, and try to drown myself in the tub, somehow take like.. three to few pills, miss the major veins by a millimeter and float to the top right before completely drowning and manage to survive the whole ordeal. That would be my luck.  
  
What's the fucking point?! Dammit its just so fucking useless, no one does anything, the whole fucking universe is in hell. Seriously, anything good that ever happens is shadowed by all the million bad things that happen. no on is ever truly happy and if they are, then they're on some shit-ass good medication.  
  
What's the point.  
  
There is no point, there's no point for anything. Not my life, not Quatre's life, not Hilde's life, no one's. no one really wants to live through all the bullshit that goes on all the fucking time.  
  
Even if by some miracle you get satisfied with your personal life the real world outside of your sad sick happy delusion fucks it up.  
  
The fucking universe needs to end, just to completely erase all the pain, all the sorrow, madness, guilt fear insanity, everything. Just have the entire universe realize that somewhere something fucked up big time.  
  
Universal suicide.  
  
I hear someone laughing pretty insanely and realize shortly that its me.  
  
Universal suicide, I get this picture of the entire universe saying fuck it, and downing a really, really, really, fucking big bottle of something toxic enough to kill it off.  
  
Yet in all honestly the universe would probably just realize it fucked up and sacrifice itself, to end the million of tiny, insignificant lifeforms. Just suck itself in and implode upon itself, pulling every fucking star, planet, nebula, and everything else that resides in the great glowing ball of fuckedness and just burn itself out, turn into one really fucking big black hole.. or something.  
  
Yeah, that would be nice.  
  
But it'll never happen. at least not in my lifetime.  
  
Damn, and I really wanted front row seats to the end of the world.  
  
Oh well maybe next time.  
  
I laugh dryly again and put my head in my hands. My shoulders shake with laugher that hit the brink of insanity. Common thing for me actually, happens all the fucking time.  
  
I'm not crying but it almost seems like I am, crying without the tears, how fucking ironic to feel the pain but not getting the normal effect. Sounds familiar.  
  
Cutting my arms to hell, feeling the pain but not getting the normal effect. I've read a lot about self-mutilation, I know its actually pretty common. I also know that generally people do it as a sort of release, they get angry or sad or some shit and cut themselves and it helps them feel better. Others might do it because they want a pain that they know they can feel, something they find real, they get all emotional or lack of emotions and just want to feel something, anything that feels real.  
  
I make chop suey out of my body for the sheer fucked fun of it. Oh yeah, leave it to me to leap out of all sorts of statistics and 'normal' reason for doing things.  
  
Normal reasons for hacking the hell out of yourself.. That's become something people talk about a lot. And they wonder why I want the universe to end.  
  
Oh yeah, they say -I'm- the illogical one, more like the only one who takes the time to open my fucking eyes and view the destruction around me.  
  
Oh well, nothing I can do about it.  
  
Not that there's anything I would want to do about it. Its not my job to take on the problems of everyone else who has issues.  
  
DAMMIT!  
  
I slam my head into the wall of the counter behind me again.  
  
There's that happy fucking word screaming into my mind again, wracking apart my mind.  
  
Shame. Shame, shame, shame, fucking SHAME!  
  
Guilt for everything I've ever done. All the people I killed, all the lives I ruined, everything, all the friends I had in schools that I just left without so much as a goodbye. Guilt for everything, all the people I've tainted.. everything,  
  
Guilt for what I did to Hilde..  
  
Guilt for what I almost did to Quatre last night.  
  
What kind of CREEP does that to his best fucking friends?! What kind of monster take sick sadistic pleasure is seeing other people being scared?!?  
  
What the FUCK am I!?!?!  
  
I dig my nails into the sides of my head and growl in utter frustration.  
  
I cant believe I almost did that to Quatre last night. Goddammit he's here cuz he's sick as hell and I'm supposed to be trying to help him out and shit. And what the fuck do I do? nearly give him a concussion, handcuff him, throw him on a bed, nearly burn him and I would have cut him and who else knows what if I didn't see that he cuts himself too.  
  
Dammit he cuts himself too.  
  
I know from reading and just looking around that self mutilation isn't an uncommon thing in teenagers these days, and I actually expected most of the soldiers in the war to be doing it too.  
  
Hell, I expected that the other gundam pilots would do it. But I never really thought Quatre would. He just.. seems so perfect and all that other glorious shit to be someone who hacks the hell out of himself. And I thought that even if he did cut and shit, it wouldn't look as bad as it does. His arm looked like hell and his back was just scary.  
  
I mean, I'm one to talk, I've cut almost everywhere, but I don't think I ever thought of slashing my back up. damn, I have a shit load of scars too, more then Quatre most likely but still.  
  
He isn't the normal couple random cuts here and there, that's for sure.  
  
He's still the one I got closest too during the war. Hell, I think I've gotten closer to him during the war then I did with anyone else total, even Hilde.  
  
Hilde. Dammit. I was never really close with her, we didn't have really serious conversations that much, I was always afraid of telling her too much, just losing control of what I'm saying and completely scare her away.  
  
But somehow she found out I cut. She confronted me about it and I ended up telling her a little bit about it. Not a whole lot but apparently enough. When we first met, she didn't cut herself, and when she first found out that I did, she still didn't. it was after talking with me for a long enough time that she started. She does it more for the reason of say getting angry and releasing the tension. But she got the idea from me.  
  
I left shortly after I found out she started cutting, I didn't want to be around her, I was a bad influence, she would have only gotten worse quicker if I stayed. So, I left.  
  
I always leave. I fuck people up and leave.  
  
Shame.  
  
It's the only thing I can feel anymore.  
  
It's the only thing I want to feel anymore.  
  
  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
a/n .. whee ^_^ wow.. uhmmm.. sorry if that kinda seems a little ranty.. ^_^;; lol, there's something wrong with me, I had a realleh good day and I came home and wrote this o.o;; . its 6:10 in the morning and I;'m not tired yet.. oh yeah.. I've got issues ^_^ REVIEW!! Pwease .. make meh happy ^_^;; 


	13. Fuzzy

MWA!!! i was able to use my dad's *kills* computer for a homework  
  
thing *also kills* and i managed to just say 'screw it' about the  
  
allready half written next chapter to this sitting in a piece of  
  
scrap metal back 2500 miles away and jsut write from scratch.  
  
warning, i have almost no way of rereading the past chapters of this,  
  
so i dont know how much of this was allready said, or if i screwed  
  
something up or what.. so if oyu notice anything then shut your mouth  
  
becuase if you dare complain i'll hunt you down and wring your neck.  
  
^.^ kay? good.  
  
warnings: none for this chapter really...  
  
pairing: nothing in this chapter.. yet... its stil 2x4x2 by default i  
  
suppose.  
  
disclaimer: like i said. if i owned it i woudlnt be in arizona right  
  
now, i would be off somewhere else, like my own personal island or  
  
something, laughing at all the poor people who dont own anyhting all  
  
big and super. but.. like i said, i dont so nyeh. id you sue.. well..  
  
please ^_^ do, my dad will prolly have to pay for it and then that  
  
woudl give him one more reason to hate me ^_^ *shine*  
  
notes: uhmmm... yeah, i got sick again, so the stuff in this chapter  
  
is more experiece from the last couple of days instead of when i  
  
frist started this thing god know how many months ago.  
  
oh, and dont expect this to be very good, i wrote it cuz i had time  
  
and i didnt want to keep the masses *pokes dust* waiting. so be happy  
  
or die.  
  
well.. enough of my stupid ranting, you dont really care baout what i  
  
have to say do you...?  
  
chapter 13  
  
  
  
I sat against the back of the tub and let the warm water pour  
  
down on me. My muscles positively burned, my throat was tight and  
  
very, very sore, my stomach was sore from coughing, and no matter how  
  
warm the water actually was I just couldn't get myself warm.  
  
The damned medicine probably wasn't working, and I don't  
  
think this shower was either.  
  
I felt like shit. No.. Not shit.. I would admire shit at this  
  
point. I feel like I went to hell and back, I keep moving my legs in  
  
an attempt to get comfortable but they burn from the fever. All my  
  
muscles feel tight, generally everything just feels horribly wrong. I  
  
couldn't breath through my nose and most of the time trying to breath  
  
through my mouth ended up in a coughing fit.  
  
This really sucks.  
  
I realize that I had probably been in the shower too long. I didn't  
  
want to run Duo's water bill up to high. though when I thought about  
  
it, Duo probably wasn't even paying for his own water.  
  
But still. I mumbled as I tried to pull myself up to turn off  
  
the water.  
  
I sat back down, unable to turn the water off just yet. I sat  
  
there letting it pour over my face for another minute or two, then I  
  
gathered all possible will power and turned off the water.  
  
One major accomplishment for the day. Go me.  
  
I sat on the floor of the shower, unable to stand completely  
  
up just yet, but the absence of warm water and the cool air from  
  
outside of the shower made that position cold, really, really cold,  
  
really, really fast.  
  
I stand up, holding onto the wall for support as the moment I  
  
stand up my vision sways and the world starts to spin. I grab the  
  
closest towel and wrap it around myself, stepping out of the shower.  
  
I sink to the floor by the pile of my clothes and sit there, with my  
  
eyes closed for a few seconds, just not having the strength nor will  
  
to do -anything-.  
  
Eventually I manage to get dressed, not standing up until the  
  
moment where I absolutely -had- to, and even then, moving slowly, my  
  
head still spun and I saw stars. I leaned on the sink for balance and  
  
looked up into the foggy mirror.  
  
I like it so much better foggy.  
  
I use one hand to wipe away some of the fog from the mirror.  
  
I can see a clearer yet still very deformed version of myself.  
  
My face was pale, and despite all the sleep duo said I got,  
  
the bags under my eyes were almost purely purple. I looked down and  
  
coughed slightly, thankful for the fact that I got away with a little  
  
coughing and not the whole, send-me-to-my-knees-coughing-fit.  
  
I'm not even sure what I should be thinking about here. Its  
  
kind of like I just put my mind on shut down, here I am, at duo's  
  
house, using his shower, sick as all hell. Not to mention the fact  
  
that I recently `ran away' from everyone I know so I could fuck my  
  
body up in my own personal solitude.  
  
I really don't know what I should be thinking, one side of me  
  
wants to scream (though that would -really- be a stunt for me to pull  
  
with my throat in this condition) at duo for offering me to stay at  
  
his place, and scream even more at myself for accepting. And another  
  
part of me, which this really confuses me, but part of me really  
  
likes that fact that I'm not alone, that I'm with a friend, not to  
  
mention my best friend, at least from how I look at it.  
  
I honestly don't know if I could be so against myself as to  
  
hate duo for helping me when all I really plan to do is die anyway.  
  
But then I don't know if I could actually be thankful for duo for  
  
letting me stay with him.  
  
Or then there's always the fact that I'm scared I'll hurt  
  
duo. Somehow I know I could. Then I would hate myself for ever  
  
accepting his offer and then hurting him, when all he was trying to  
  
do was help.  
  
I think I should just shut my mind down again.  
  
That always seems to be what I do, when things start to get  
  
to serious, to deep, or confusing I just don't think about them.  
  
Or I think I don't think about them when I probably do think  
  
about them, dwell on them even, but -I- don't think that I think  
  
about them too much, even if I do. And then I really get upset  
  
because I hate the fact that I don't spend enough time thinking about  
  
things I should be thinking about when I'm probably over dwelling on  
  
them but I feel as if I don't and oh shit I think my head is gonna  
  
fall off.  
  
I shift my weight on my feet slightly and hold onto the sink  
  
a little tighter as an unsuspected wave of nausea comes upon me,  
  
making not only my stomach flip, but my head feel odd.  
  
I hate being sick.  
  
I take a deep breath and try to steady myself before opening  
  
the door and walking out of the bathroom.  
  
~~~~~~~`  
  
author note:  
  
WHEE!! i know, it like.. jsut ends. i didnt feel like writing more in  
  
quatres pov, the next chapter will be.. eithe rin quatres pov and  
  
therefore VERY confusing, or duos pov and therfore.. very confusing  
  
all the same.. welp, untill next time *falls over wishing he was just  
  
dead allready* 


	14. Open foot insert mouth

Disclaimers: I still don't own it.. surprise surprise.. Warnings: ehh.. nothing much really. its staying fairly calm. _;; just you wait. Pairings: this is where it actually starts to show 2x4x2 (just a little..) Rating: eh.. I dunno, what do you think it should be? I'll keep it at pg- 13, tell me if you think it should be R. Notes: yeah.. its short as hell. (chapter 15 wont be long though. unless something comes up.) This one is duo's pov. and if anyone was confused about that last chapter.. that was Quatre's pov o.O; (someone said they were confused.)  
  
(goes back in time only the slightest bit) Chapter 14- 'enter foot insert mouth'  
  
I heard the water get turned off. I stood up, having not the energy to get off the kitchen floor, before, though at this point I was just staring blankly into nothing. I walked over to the couch in the living room and sat down.  
  
About a minute later, the bathroom door opened and Quatre slowly walked out, using the wall to help support himself. He walks over to the couch, not using the wall for most of the walk and sits down on the couch.  
  
He looks over at me, "What are you doing?"  
  
'Planning the end of the universe' nah, that wouldn't go over to well, "Watching T.V." .. Shit, that might have worked if I even owned a T.V.  
  
"But.. you don't even have one." Damn.. he caught on.  
  
"Details Quatre, details." I said with a straight face.  
  
He looked at me and blinked a few times. I then grinned widely and laughed.  
  
"So," I say after I stop laughing, "how are you feeling?"  
  
He just looks at me and makes a face.  
  
"Aa, feel like shit?"  
  
"I'd admire shit."  
  
There he goes again, cursing. I've heard cursing from him before, but it still just seems so.. wrong, vulgar for him to curse. Like a 5 year old cursing.  
  
Then I remembered last night. I resisted the urge to curl up and scream at what I was, and what I saw, at what happened. His scars. He isn't as innocent as I thought. But in the same sense I could have never met anyone more innocent.  
  
It was just too hard I guess, for me to see him at not innocent, when for so long I couldn't help it. But.. I guess I admire his innocence.  
  
It was just.. He was just.  
  
Staring back at me with a slightly concerned, confused stare.  
  
Then I realized I had been staring at him.  
  
"Is there something wrong duo..?"  
  
"No, nothing wrong." I made more direct eye contact and just moved my head.  
  
"You were staring at me." He blinks.  
  
"Aa! Just admiring you're beauty." He blinked some more. I just sort of laughed and resisted the urge to eat my own foot.  
  
That! That was the best thing I could think of to say!? I mentally slapped myself, wasn't satisfied, so I then mentally punched, kicked and spit on my sad, pathetic, mess of myself. Much better.  
  
While my mental self was a shuddering, shaking, little heap in some dark corner of my mind, I realized that along with me, Quatre was blushing. However, I was the only one who suffered from nervous laughing.  
  
What the HELL was going on? 


	15. LaLaLa and the Pink furry Bunny Rabbits

Disclaimers: they own me!! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH Warnings: eh.. confusing maybe? Definite talk of yaoi. Parings: still 2x4 (I guess) and talk of 1x3 Notes: yeh.. just realize that after a while delirium takes hold of Quatre... Well.. on to the story.  
  
Chapter 15- lalala and the pink furry bunny rabbits. (don't ask)  
  
What the hell was going on?  
  
Duo slowed his laugher and then stopped. He looked around.  
  
I just blinked.  
  
"Duo.. are you all right?" he just acted really weird. maybe he caught my sickness.  
  
"I'm fine.. eh. I just thought that it was weird that you curse."  
  
Didn't he say something about that before.? I can remember him asking that but it seems more like he didn't but I only thought he did. De ja vu or something.  
  
He waved his hand in front of my face.  
  
"Huh..? what.. Stop it!" I pushed his hand away from my face.  
  
"You zoned out." He states simply.  
  
"Either way, I curse now, big deal, you've said worse." He blinked.  
  
"Yeah, I've said worse, hell, I've invented worse. When did you actually start cursing?" Damn, this guy's obsessed with me cursing.  
  
"The first time?" I remember exactly when, the first time I actually cut myself.  
  
"Yeah.."  
  
"I said damn in sandrock one of the first times I battled. I think that was the first time." Technically. I said 'dang' but I sounded like damn. That works right?  
  
"Damn isn't a curse word. eh.. oh well."  
  
Finally he let it drop. He sighs and taps his fingers on his knee. We sit in silence for a little while.  
  
"So!" he sits up rather abruptly and faced me. "I'm really in the mood to talk.. What do you wanna talk about?"  
  
Granted that kinda took me by surprise. Though, not much is surprising anymore.  
  
"Uhmm.. I don't know.. what do you wanna talk about?"  
  
He blinked a couple times. " have you heard from any of the others lately? I. kinda lost touch with them."  
  
"Actually, up until a few weeks ago I had. Well, I heard from Trowa at least. I only talked to Wufei a couple of times, he's actually not in the preventers anymore, I kinda just assumed that him and Sally had a fight."  
  
He nodded, "anything from Heero?"  
  
"Well. not directly. I heard about him through Trowa."  
  
"Aa, so they kept in touch. Hey, you know if Heero ever joked up with that Relena chick?"  
  
I coughed slightly, not from sickness, more from uneasiness. "Well. not quite."  
  
"So.. Heero's still single eh?"  
  
"Not quite."  
  
He blinked. "Huh?"  
  
"Well.. him and Trowa-"  
  
"WHAT!?!" he started laughing. "and to think, out of all of us, I figured him to he the straightest, maybe nest to Wufei, but then again Fei'll probably be happier single. Heh.. Heero and Trowa though. man.. who'da thought eh?"  
  
I chuckled uneasily, then tried to not go into another coughing fit, "Eh, I was surprised at first too, but I've gotten use to it." Now this felt awkward. I personally have nothing wrong with Heero and Trowa being together, but it felt really awkward talking about it with Duo.  
  
For some reason.  
  
"What are you thinking about?" Duo asked me after he stopped laughing.  
  
"Nothing much really."  
  
"Ya sure? You look spacey again."  
  
"I'm just still tired."  
  
"Man! You've done nothing but sleep all day. And you haven't eaten much either, kinda sounds like mono."  
  
I blinked, I never heard of that. "what's mono?"  
  
"Well, if you have it you're screwed. It was a disease that was wiped out in the 22nd century."  
  
"Since when did you learn about diseases from about 300 years ago..?"  
  
"Hey! I was just online.. its not like I was researching it on purpose. it's also called the kissing disease."  
  
"I wont ask." I honestly didn't want to know.  
  
Duo started laughing a little bit again. My stomach did a little flippy thing.  
  
I don't know if maybe I was sick and just imagining the awkwardness of the situation, or just really paranoid, but I felt like it was really awkward.  
  
Then my mind spits a recent memory at me that I don't honestly know how I could have let it pass before. Duo said that out of all of us he figured Wufei and Heero to be the straightest.  
  
My stomach does another flip. Does Duo think I'm gay?  
  
Wait. was he adding himself in that? . was he trying to tell -me- something?  
  
My stomach sinks a little further.  
  
I blink a couple times to keep my eyes in focus, Duo's stopped laughing. I think he actually stopped laughing a while ago.  
  
Time suddenly felt very weird. How long has Duo been quiet? I can hardly remember what he laughed about. I remember him talking about Heero and Trowa. but I don't remember how long that was ago. I blink a few times.  
  
It almost seems hard to grasp the notion that we were even talking at all.  
  
FUCK! This silence is HELL!  
  
"DUO!"  
  
He jumped. "what?? What's the matter?!" his eyes were a little wider then normal.  
  
"Uhmm.. ." I felt stupid, I just screamed out his name. "I don't know. it .. just got really quiet."  
  
He looks concerned at me, "You feeling all right? It wasn't quiet.. I was talking about deathscythe.. how I got onto that subject I don't know, but I know I was talking."  
  
What the hell. "I.. must not have heard you then."  
  
"Can you...  
  
... it suddenly felt silent again.  
  
I felt a sudden pressure on the top of my arm, I looked quickly to see, . Duo poked me.  
  
"HEY! Quatre. are you all right?"  
  
"Yes. I'm fine. Stop asking." I resisted the urge to growl at him.  
  
"You didn't answer me when I asked if you could still hear me. have you been listening to excessively loud music or something?"  
  
What made him talk about music all of a sudden?! And why would he care if I -had- been listening to loud music anyways?  
  
"Quatre. are you sure you're all right? You seem a little. too spacey."  
  
"I said I was tired."  
  
"If your tired maybe you should try to go back to sleep."  
  
"I can't fall asleep, I just woke up, less then an hour ago."  
  
"Actually it's been about 2."  
  
I shrugged.  
  
Two hours? That long? Suddenly time felt wrong again.. invasive almost, like the entire concept of time was impossible for me to grasp. I rubbed my eyes with my hands. Wrong.. everything just felt so wrong. I look at my hands. Wrong.. the couch, the time, the air, my hands.. it all feels wrong. I move my fingers a little bit.. feeling almost as if I'm watching some little animal instead of an actual part of myself.  
  
Duo waved his hand in front of my face again. "Quatre.. maybe you should go to sleep. you're burning up."  
  
When did he feel for my temperature?  
  
I blinked slowly, or maybe I just closed my eyes, I couldn't tell. I saw the image of a tiny flame reflected on my eyes.  
  
I shot my eyes opened and just saw Duo looking at me with the same concerned look.  
  
Fire. . I saw fire.  
  
The strangest sense of de ja vu came over me again, almost feeling as if I wasn't even sitting still anymore. I almost felt a sense of fear come over me when I looked at Duo, but I couldn't pinpoint why, exactly, I felt scared.  
  
I suddenly remembered my arm then, out of nowhere. And the fear increased. Everything just felt so wrong.. so small. Nothing is right.. .. nothing feels real.  
  
I saw the flash of a razor when I blinked. It didn't feel right. it.. didn't.. it didn't seem like it was mine.. or.. that it was in use..  
  
I couldn't locate the thoughts in my head. I felt small. like a tiny deformed shape in the dead center of a long, deep, dark spiral. I could almost see myself as a really small figure against a completely black background, fading.. getting smaller and smaller.  
  
I felt like I was drifting. And things kept getting blacker and blacker.  
  
I gasped sharply and opened my eye, to the feel of Duo pulling me up off the couch. A sudden quick rush of thoughts and feeling came tingling back to me.  
  
Duo was giving me the same concerned, yet slightly confused look. He mumbled something about how I fell asleep and he was carrying me to the bedroom.  
  
Then things when dark again.  
  
Then the same rushing feeling came over me as I was placed gently on the bed. Duo turned off the light as he left the room.  
  
It was dark, but I couldn't tell if my eyes were still open or not. then things slowly became the slightest bit lighter, as I assumed that my eyes were open and they adjusted to the dim light caused by the moon shining through the window.  
  
Breath caught in my throat as a sudden jolt of fear ran through my body, making my heart beat loudly in my ear.  
  
Duo was laying in bed next to me.  
  
I blinked a few times as Duo.. or at least the image of Duo slowly faded, not disappear completely as if I woke from a dream, but fade slowly, until it was completely gone.  
  
Then total darkness followed.  
  
A/n: ^_^;;;; I had much fun writing that. well.. dads about to wring my neck if I don't get off his computer so until next time! Let the delirium live ON!!! R&R 


	16. mutilate

disclaimer: still... no camel. _;;;; _;;;;; warnings: same as always you know... _;; lalala.. sorry for the confusing the last chapter might have brought on... this chapter.. I'd gonna make it rough... if you get queezy easily... this entire story pqueazyisnt for you... same everything else... also: I dont have Word on my computer, no spell check -whatsoever- so this is just me typing trying to do a good job. i tried to remember to capitalize whatever i coudl remember, but dont kill me for the damned typos. theyre abundant x_X; notes: lalala..... *bashes head on a wall* lalala.... *bashes head on a wall again* lalala.. i wanna die .... and before you have to ask me, everything i describe happeneing in this chapter -can- happen without the poor fucked soul dying. -_-; lalala.. i would know.. lalala.. i cant die.... lalalala.. *bashed head on wall again* ohhh.. tickles....  
  
chapter 16:  
  
I walked into my room and closed the door behind me. It was slightly unnerving to see Quatre that out of it, he doesnt seem as sick as he does delerious though, wich is probably worse then seeing him sick, somehow.  
  
I locked the door, an unconscious habit at this point, and went over to my bed, sitting on the edge of it. I took off my shirt and carelessly tossed it on the floor by my bed.  
  
My arm was a mess. I guess I hadn't totally realized how sharp my razors were last night, before Quatre came in I wasn't using my new razors, however after I put him back in his bed...  
  
I wrap my right arm, wich is fairly unscared around my stomach and continue staring at my arm. The top of my arm has numerous large scars that raise up on it, wich I find slightly amusing? (with my fucked up mind) It had always been harder for the bottom half of my arm to scar, even my wrist. I couldnt even try to count many times i cut my wrist, not with the way they were overlapping at this point. After Quatre left last night that was it.  
  
I'm actually quite (dissapointed) surprised that I'd still alive.  
  
I lean back with my one arm around my stomach and my other arm over my head. I close my eyes and a quick flashback of the razor going through my arm flashes before my closed eyes, for a split second i didnt even think it was deep, I was using only a slight amount of pressure, so i wasnt surprised by the fact it did gape. But it did. Oh yes it sure did, that long split second after i dragged the razor through the tender flesh of my lower wrist it sorta.. popped open and said hello. It took another split second before it started to bleed, and to my sick twisted mind the fact i saw the tiny blue line just barely under the skin right there actually made me giggle.  
  
Then it started to bleed.. and I realized -just- how sharp my new razors were.  
  
Nornally when I cut, I either go on the top of my arm in random lines, where ever there's still skin left, which there isnt much of, or I go on my wrist. If I ever cut the top of my lower arm i do neat little straight lines wich have almost no chance of scarring for more then maybe three years.  
  
Normally this shit becomes a habit for people. Rituals of hacking themselves, rituals of what to do with the blood, why do it when they do it, who they tell, fucking ritual for everything.  
  
Fuck that. They also say its an addiction. Fuck that as well. I've gone almost two months without doing shit to my arms or the rest of my body, then just started right back up no problem. I use to bleed onto the tiled bathroom floor to see the nice red little drops of blood when i first started, then i would clean it all up later.  
  
Then I started to save it all in paper towells. One of the first nights I was using paper towels I strived to fill one up completely.  
  
I still have the scars from that one, seven white lines a little to the left of my wrist.  
  
Last night I pretty much filled 18 paper towells, not including the blood I just sat there licking up after I calmed down from what happened with Quatre and just settled on focusing on cutting.  
  
The most stupid way of commiting suicide: The slitting of the wrists.  
  
I hold over my face so I can see the multitude of cuts.  
  
Four of them hit the vein.  
  
After I saw the little blue line, (it was wide for a line, but still a line none the less) I took the razor, and into the allready open skin, cut deeper.  
  
Then a little above that cut, dug my razor into my skin, and above that.. and above that.  
  
The blood was dark, deep red. Above those four, 1/4th-1/2th inch wide cuts, near the very top of my wrist, where its easiest to see the veins...  
  
I didn't even stop cutting repeatedly when I heard and felt the razor dragging against the bone in my wrist.  
  
I'm sure I hit the vein there, but I wouldn't be able to tell exactly how many times.  
  
The skin near the top of my wrist is a few shades of purple, and definately inflammed. I flex my fingers infront of my eyes, for a second not knowing whose hands they were exactly. I have pretty much full use of my hands, I cant clench my fist as hard as I normally can and the tips of my fingers have less touch sensation then they should. Maybe permenant damage there, who can tell? I guess in a few weeks or so if I still dont have full normal use of my hand then I'll settle for minimal nerve damage then.  
  
I turn my arm over and look at the top of my arm. Fucking thing's nearly covered. It was always hard to scar the top of my lower arm. And when I would it would be those annoying little perfect lines.  
  
Now, lots of nice, inch or so deep cuts randomly all over it. Even more half an inch deep, and barely any superficial. I could definately use stitches, and I would be more then happy to try to sew them up myself, but lacking a needle small enough for that I figure they'll scar by themselves.  
  
Removing my other hand from my stomach I lightly run my fingertips over the marred flesh. Without really even touching the skin it still burns, the skin around the cuts burns, tingles, whatever. It hurts.  
  
I drag my finger nails over the cuts, not hard enough to reopen them, but just enough to make it hurt all the much more.  
  
For a while last night I was almost positive that I was gonna bleed to death. Obviously I didn't. However I didnt have any trouble sleeping. My vision was shakey, I was lightheaded, and just fell asleep. That 'lunch' I told Quatre I was having was actually my breakfast too.  
  
Maybe pain is a release. Some way to get rid of my thoughts. That's been said was a common reason people cut themselves. I don't know though, It doesnt get rid of my thoughts, it doesnt release my anger, in fact it just makes me more angry. It doesn't calm me down much, only while doing it and sometimes it just angers me more.  
  
I admit, at first when I didnt think I had a problem, but I'm not stupid, I know that having more then a thousand self inflicted scars is a problem, Its definately a problem.  
  
But that doesnt mean I wanna stop.  
  
I;ve cut in happy moods, bad moods, no-moods. There's no pattern. No rituals. Nothing, no triggers either. Just me and my little silver friend.  
  
I roll over on my bed and sigh heavily. I notice a hair on the black sheets of my bed and pick it up. After closer inspection I deem it to be one of Quatre's, as it's much to blonde to be one of mine. Its long enough for me to twist it around some of my fingers.  
  
I close my eyes and roll back over onto my back, my arm throbbing slightly, I barely even notice it though. I open my eyes and stare up at my ceiling, Quatre's hair still entwined in my fingers.  
  
I thought it to be impossible for me to love anyone. Everytime I woudl start to get close to someone, if they didnt back away from me I would normally just shut down any version of emotion and 'go through motions' acting like I wasn't a stone, instead they saw a flightly, overly-hyper boy who knows how to make people laugh. I just figured it was either a protection mechanism or I was just incapable of caring deeply for someone.  
  
Quatre's only been at my house for roughly two days. But we were in the war together, and when we were fighting along side eachother, and that one time after Heero played drama queen and blew himself up when I stayed at his hideout with him.  
  
I felt something. More then I think I felt with anyone.  
  
All these damned emotions piss me off. ~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
-_- READ AND REVIEW!!!! ._. reviews make me HAPPY! i LOVE reviews.. PLEASE REVIEW!! i'm BEGGING HERE!!! u_U; if this story doesnt start bringing in a few more reviews i'm just gonna start writing other ones and forget about this one. R-E-V-I-E-W 


	17. hair, Questions, screaming mind

Disclaimer: I own this much of Gundam wing ---  
  
Warning: uhmmm.. just some -slight- talk of self-mutilation. Insanity. Shounen ai ^_^; FINALLY (just a hint o_O) uhmm.. morbid odd ness and some bad words.  
  
Pairing: 2x4  
  
Notes: if anyone was wondering where Quatre's hair came from in the last chapter it was from the night when Duo kind of.. Pinned Quatre to the bed. _;; seeee.. It's all logical. And another thing, I realized upon inspection that what Duo was referring to hitting the bone in the wrist.. was merely the tendons in the wrist o_o;; *blinks* or.. that.. hard thing that comes when you bend your wrist backwards.. that thing.. o_o;; fun fun? *cough-hide*  
  
Chapter 17  
  
I didn't realize I had fallen asleep until I woke up. Quatre's hair was still entwined between and my shirt was still on the floor. The morning sun was creeping through the dark shades I have covering my window; just enough light for me to tell it was morning. I sat up slowly and detangled Quatre's hair from my finger. I went to go drop the hair over the side of the bed but stalled, I brought it closer to me and looked at it.  
  
Why the hell would I care if I dropped this little piece of hair anyway? Really now, what am I going to do with it? Give it back to him? Yeah sure... 'Here Quatre, I think this belongs to you." sure, that would be great. Frame it? "Ala, Quatre hair! Marvel at the blondeness of it." Would I keep it? Eternally have a piece of his beautiful blonde hair wrapped around my finger until the day I die?  
  
Foolish.  
  
I drop the hair over the side of the bed and even though it's just a stupid piece of hair I almost felt a twang of regret with dropping it.  
  
I stood up, mumbled just how fucking insane I am, and pulled some clothes I had in a pile on the floor up and got dressed. All black as usual, I felt a slight wetness on my arm after putting on the shirt, and figured one of the cuts just reopened slightly. Blood doesn't show on black unless there's a lot of it. Good thing.  
  
I yawn, stretching slightly, and open my bedroom door, walking out into the living room. I notice that Quatre was already awake, and was sitting on the living room couch. I went to say good morning to him but as I got closer I realized his eyes were closed, upon closer inspection I settled on the fact that he was indeed, sleeping. I kneeled down in front of him and went to poke his shoulder to wake him up but stopped short and pulled my finger back. One, I remembered the cuts on his arm/back and just. didn't want to accidentally hurt him. or something. Two, he looked so cute sleeping.  
  
I backed away from Quatre and sat on the floor, putting my head in my hands. I just called Quatre cute. Granted he looks like a girl sometimes but he's still a boy, and I'm a boy, and if I think he's cute then that would make me gay. Right? I rest my chin on my knees and stare at Quatre's sleeping form. He is cute though.  
  
I never really seemed to think too much about Hilde, which she didn't seem to understand sometimes.  
  
Not that it would bother me if I indeed was gay, I mean.. it .. isn't like it's a crime or anything. And it would be my own decision so I wouldn't be bothered by it, who gives a fuck what other people thing right?  
  
Right?  
  
I don't care what other people think, hell, I have long hair, call myself the god of death, basically flirt with everyone. What wouldn't I do? What do I care? It's just a way of life.  
  
And just because I think Quatre is cute does not by any means mean that I love him. Or hell, it doesn't mean I'm gay even, he's just.. effeminately cute. Right?  
  
What if I like boys, or if I like girls, or girls and boys, hell.. options are unlimited. Right?  
  
Who the fuck is gonna give me these answers?  
  
I run my fingers through my loose bangs, tensing my fingers slightly, noticing the slight difference in the amount of movement in my hands since I hacked at my tendons the other night.  
  
I stand slowly and look at Quatre. I just stand there staring at him for a few seconds, minutes, hell, hours? Who knows, I stare though. I doubt it was hours though, or even minutes. Maybe a minute, tops.  
  
Why do I care so much?  
  
I sigh to myself and turn to go walk to the kitchen. "Dammit Quatre, why do you have to be so cute." I mutter to myself, what I thought was a fairly low voice.  
  
"Hnn.. what?" I heard Quatre's soft voice say from his position on the couch behind me. My stomach dropped and I cleared my throat as I turned around to face him, he looked like he just woke up.  
  
"I was singing." I say carelessly, walking up to him, hoping he didn't actually understand what I had said.  
  
The best way to lie is to act like its true, I'm a good liar, and I've had practice. "How are you feeling this morning sunshine?" I say with an energetic voice, sitting down on the couch next to him as he works his way into a sitting position. I put my hand against his forehead to check for a fever.  
  
"Meh, I'm feeling better then I .. did." He quickly turns away from me and sneezes, then going into a coughing fit.  
  
"Well. it feels like your fever went down a little." I pat his back until he stops coughing. He sits back up and turns slightly to face me.  
  
"Well, I feel a little better, damned cough wont stop." Quatre sighs, slightly annoyed and goes to tuck some of his hair behind his ears, while doing so the sleeve of his shirt falls down just enough to reveal about four cuts on his arm.  
  
I don't know what possessed me to do anything, I knew damned well what it was and what it was from. I didn't know how he would react.  
  
I reached up and grabbed his sleeve, not tightly but enough for him to widen his eyes quite a bit. "What's this?" I asked him, looking him in the eyes.  
  
I knew what it was. Dammit I knew what it was.  
  
He nearly shot up from his seat, pulling his sleeve down, tugging on it repeatedly. "It's.. NOTHING.. It's nothing, nothing.. don't.. .. It's nothing!!" He was breathing quicker, his eyes were wide.  
  
I didn't expect him to overreact that much. I sat there, blinked. I was startled myself at how. extensively he reacted to that.  
  
"It's nothing. I didn't.. look.. I did.. I didn't. Its nothing." He stammered, paling slightly and shifting from one foot to another as if he was just going to run as fast as he could.  
  
"Quatre.. it's all right" I say as I stand slowly. He dashes.  
  
He ran straight into the room he was staying in and slammed the door shut behind him. I heard the wood crack, but didn't think too much of it right then.  
  
Holy shit. I had the smallest urge to laugh at his reaction it was that dramatic, but at the same time I was trying to comprehend what just happened. He. flipped. Big time.  
  
Why, just WHY did I have to go and.. ask about it.  
  
I walked quickly to his door, and without knocking turned the knob, glad to find that it was unlocked, I opened the door and half expected to see him cutting himself there and then. But he wasn't, in fact I couldn't find him at first. Then I noticed him off in the corner, curled up, hiding his head somewhere between his knees and hands. I walked over to him slowly, and kneeled down in front of him, it seemed he didn't even notice I was there.  
  
"Quatre.?" He cringed slightly.  
  
"I don't want to talk about it. I'm.. I'm insane, I'm a creep, I'm horrible. You'll just think I'm fucking insane and lock me up. I know it. I've evil, I'm weird, I'm crazy.. I'm sorry.. Duo.. don't.. " He looked up at me, "Don't. don't think I'm crazy."  
  
"Quatre." I put my hand over his, trying to look him in the eye without showing too much emotion. Any emotion at this point could be bad. "Quatre I don't think you're crazy."  
  
He pulled his hand away and hid his face again. "Yes you do! I am.. you know I am!"  
  
I growled slightly. "Quatre! Dammit, if you're crazy then I am too." I said, realizing only after I said it that I used much to harsh of a tone. He looked up at me, wide-eyed.  
  
"I know what the fuck it is you do to yourself dammit. I know. I know all to fucking well." I pulled my sleeve up, a little too roughly, and practically shoved my arm into his face. "Don't pull that 'I'm crazy" shit with me, no one pulls it off better then I do Quatre!!"  
  
My heart was beating too fast, I was breathing harder, my fucking hands were shaking. My voice was getting increasingly louder with each word. I was pissed off and I had no idea why.  
  
I watched as Quatre paled at the sight of my arm and started shaking his head from side to side as if in disbelief, I watched as I pulled my arm back, pulling my sleeve down only my slightly bleeding arm, too slowly, to quickly. My back was cold. Quatre was too far away. No, I was.  
  
"Quatre.. I'm.." I couldn't speak. It wasn't my voice.  
  
I tried looking at Quatre, he looked like he was crying, or screaming, crying. He looked like he was repeating 'you cant' over and over again.  
  
I couldn't hear him.  
  
This wasn't happening.  
  
He looked upset, smaller then normal. Weak.. defenseless. No. He wasn't Quatre. He was a stranger, a stranger in my world, screaming, or crying, or both. I don't know him, I don't like him, I don't hate him I want to hurt him I cant hurt him. Stop this. This isn't me, he's Duo, I'm Quatre, I'm crying, near sobbing, I cant have a friend who fucks themselves up like me, its not right, they cant, I care too much about them. They can't hurt themselves, this is something only fucked up freaks like me do, Duo isn't fucked up, he's not a freak. This isn't me. I'm not here, this is not happening!  
  
THIS ISNT HAPPENING!!  
  
Hurt him. Grab his soft, blonde hair and rip at it. Hurt him, cuddle him, comfort him, tear him, cut him, burn him. Hug him kiss him, scratch him, bitehim, bleedhimhurthim. Pain. HelphimscarehimSCARHIMFUCKHIMRAPEHIM!!  
  
My world rushed back to me as I felt myself lean in too quickly and kiss him.  
////////////////////////////////////////////////  
*hide?* uhmm.. yeah.. sorry it took me so long to write that chapter. Uhmmm.. if.. that's confusing. well.. its. Supposed to be. If I haven't already mentioned in previous chapters, duo has a slight. personality disorder? So.. that's my explanation for the end. Too much emotion involved in his recent life, Quatre flips, it brings up a tender topic with him, it kicks him to a different level of consciousness, the whole.. thing at the end I had some trouble writing.. think of it as a sort of rising cresendo of thoughts not all belonging to him and then a sudden STOP as he kissed Quatre o_o; .... I understand if you don't get it. Sorry. Hey, they kissed, be happy.  
  
REVIEW... or I wont be tempted to write the next chapter which, now that I got rid of my HORRIBLE writers block I might actually be able to write more again ^_^;;;;  
  
...  
  
Please review.. flames welcomed o_o notice the title being burning. I did that for a reason.  
  
_;;; ok.. I'm gonna go hide and deny any sort of connection to this now. 


	18. It means something

Disclamer: uhmm I don't know it. Honest. My camel still isn't happy. Warnings: uhmm, talk of yaoi. uhmm.. shounen ai content? (WHEE) Pairings: 4x2 (der) Notes: uhhmmm. yeah. sorry if this is confusing.  
  
Chapter 18:  
I couldn't breathe.  
  
Another tear ran down my face, the last of them, as I stared up, up at nothing.  
  
I couldn't breath. It was horrible. Unsuspected, unwanted.. I think.. it wasn't. Oh my god. I didn't want it to be this way, I didn't want it to be something that will make me remember how bad things are these days, I didn't want to remember this. I didn't want this to happened.  
  
I didn't want to be kissed.  
  
Time was slow, too slow, creeping along as centuries disguised as seconds, it was cold, my face was streaked with tears. This wasn't how I wanted it to be.  
  
I don't love him.  
  
I barely know him, I mean, we spent some time together, sure, but that doesn't mean I know him, it doesn't. We barely know each other. We barely know anything. We both cut. We know that. I can't believe that he does that, only someone fucked up like me does that, he's not fucked up, he's happy, he's carefree. He can kill without remorse. that's what he says, dammit its what he says. Only I'm fucked up, only I think this way, he's fine, he's happy, he's healthy. He's sane. Like everyone but me. I don't know him, he doesn't know me, and we don't love each other.  
  
I couldn't breath. But it wasn't so bad. I looked at his eyes. They were tightly shut, he looked almost as if he was in pain.  
  
He didn't want this any more then I did.  
  
I know it hadn't been nearly as long as it felt. He didn't want this anymore then I did, I can feel it. He isn't.. he isn't. He is. He is like me.  
  
I tentatively raised my hand and placed it gently on his shoulder. He pulled back from me quickly, as if snapped out of a trance. He opened his mouth as if to say something but promptly closed it, then reopened it, then reclosed it, he repeated that motion a few times, his eyes wide and blinking. He backed away farther from me slightly and held his head in his hands.  
  
"Shit. Shit shit oh shit-shit-shit. No.. NO." He started shaking his head back and forth, I went to go put my hand on his shoulder but the second I touched him he recoiled further away from me.  
  
I cleared my throat slightly, thinking of something to say. "Uhmmm.. Duo.. don't worry about it. It.. was.. just.. a kiss." I blinked as he looked up at me, almost looking frightened.  
  
"But.. You're a boy."  
  
"So I've been told." What would that have.. oh.. shit..  
  
"I'm a boy too." His eyes got wider, as if he was talking to himself more then to me. He didn't think he was gay.  
  
"Duo.. it's okay if you-"  
  
"NO! no.. no it's not okay. Quatre.. its.. not. I mean.. you.. you aren't.. . .. " He gasped slightly as if realizing something. "You're gay aren't you?"  
  
Hoi.. I took a deep breath, shifting my gaze to the floor. "Well." My reaction was about as good as just saying yes. I had honestly known for quite some time. He put his hands back in his hands. "Look, Duo, calm down, there's nothing wrong with it." I was having a hard time managing to voice my words at this point. My stomach was turning in the most anxious way. I was sure I was blushing, my hands were feeling cold. He looked up at me helplessly.  
  
"But.. maybe I'm not gay, maybe it's just, you.. or.. something. we're friends and all. I've never really had time for friends, and now. it's just. I don't know what I'm saying. Quatre, you're my closest friend. I don't know, maybe I don't really even know you but I feel like I do, like we always knew each other. Hilde. she always seemed to wonder why I could openly flirt with her so easily and yet never seemed to get close. I guess maybe I wondered more about it then she did though. You.. dammit I don't know. I guess it doesn't really matter, I don't care what people think. I don't know. You're my closest friend." My stomach turned more, I could tell he was just sort of rambling on but he needed too I guess, hell I pretty much did the same thing when I realized. He was avoiding my eyes. I moved a little closer to him, this time when I put my hand on his shoulder he didn't move away. I moved my hand from his shoulder to the back of his neck.  
  
He shook his head slowly. "But.. I'm. not. gay." He said, slowly, not very convincingly. Not very convincingly at all. He made no attempt to pull away as I pulled him closer by the neck.  
  
"Yes you are." I said quietly as I pulled him to me and kissed him again. He seemed tentative at first, I could feel tears on my cheeks, but I wasn't sure whose they were. It wasn't long until his arms were wrapped around me, just as mine were around him.  
  
Though its not love, It means something. (1)  
  
//////////  
  
A/n: Uhmm.. whee? REVIEW. Please. ... please. Whee. O_o;;  
  
quote from Depeche Mode (best band EVER) song: Nothing, (pretty sure that's the title.. don't sue me if it isn't, its jus the one line, the rest of the song doesn't fit too well)  
  
I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT TO DO NEXT!!!! *sob* uhmm.. I really dunno what to do next. I think I have a small idea but I dunno. I'll try to work on this more now that my writer;s block of hell is over. -_- 


	19. Sympathize

Disclaimer: I own -nothing-  
  
Pairings: same as every other chapter *blink* 4x2/2x4 .. something like that.  
  
Warnings: for this chapter. now.. a whole lot. the usual.. some talk of cutting, shounen ai, angst-ish, maybe some language,  
  
Rating: still R _; just because  
  
Notes: This chapter is dedicated to my friend Zoe.  
  
(Oh, and by the way, in my story duo's eyes are purple. And Quatre's eyes are green. No further explanation.)  
  
Chapter 19: Sympathize.  
  
I missed it.  
  
I missed not being the only one who knew what was going on. I missed having other people sharing the same problems.  
  
During the war, true, it was tough, really tough. But I missed it all because while it was so hard, there were people like me. There were four other pilots, each stuck in a close to same predicament that I was in.  
  
There were people who knew. There were other people who could sympathize with me. People my own age, people I could trust at some extent.  
  
When the war was over, I lost that comfort of knowing I wasn't alone. I lost the knowledge that if I were in trouble, there would be someone trying to help me on the other side.  
  
The war with the colonies and the world ended, and the war with my thoughts and my life started.  
  
This time I had no one, there wasn't anyone who knew what I was going through, and there wasn't anyone there to sympathize with me.  
  
I was fighting in a war and I had no comrades to turn to.  
  
Sure there were support chats on the Internet that I would stumble upon, but they were too impersonal, they usually weren't even the same age or close. They were all self-righteous people who swear that they understand what you're going through, and if they could get over it then you could too.  
  
While most of them weren't even half as bad as I was.  
  
But there's someone else now.  
  
Someone else, who understands what I'm going through, at least a little bit.  
  
There's someone who can understand.  
  
Not someone who started the whole damned thing after finding out I do it. Not someone who could never understand why it hurts so much to see them, knowing I helped ruin their life.  
  
Someone who would understand.  
  
Someone who might understand just how fucked up things can be.  
  
I pull my face away from his, and look into his deep green eyes and I could see that he felt the same way. He could feel the same things that I was feeling at this moment.  
  
He could feel the glimmer of happiness that we don't have to face this.. War alone.  
  
He can feel that there is someone else who understands.  
  
He can feel the similar mess we're both in.  
  
I pull him back towards me and hold him tightly. Embracing each other's problems.  
  
And because he knows the extent of his problems, and my problems, unfortunately, and like me.  
  
. He can feel the overwhelming hopelessness of ever getting over it.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Lalala. I hope no one thought that this was gonna actually be -over- anytime soon.. heh, oh no, theres still at -least- 5 or 6 chapters left. But its summer so I'll have more time to work on it. Oh, and this chapter wasn't really defined on whos pov it was cuz they're both sorta sharing the same thoughts and stuff. its in duos pov and he was talking about hilde in case you forgot when he said someone who started it cuz they found out I did.  
  
Oh..and yes. this still has -a lot- of angst in store ^_^;; you didn't think I was gonna let them off -that- easy right? Review and make me write the next one faster? .. It was one person's review that reminded me that I can write this now *blinks* so review o_o PLEASE? .. 


	20. Why

Hey, I have to make a note about my grammar check… THERE IS NONE!! _;; well technically there is but it has a tendency to fuck things up more then anything so most of the time it doesn't work. I have a piece of shit computer, and I type .. roughly… 120 wpm. No lie _; my computer cant really keep up *nod* So there are typos and grammar, that and I usually don't think to much on writing when writing cuz I'm fucked up like that. So the grammar and spelling isn't perfect and I don't really care o_o; so.. yeah. Be happy I'm writing anything *nod*  
  
Now onto the boring detail before the story….  
  
Warnings: Uhmm.. there's a lot of angst, still some shounen ai, uhmm.. there might be self-mutilation, uhmm overall.. if you read up to this point you'll be fine. -_- _;; unless I pull out my spiffy plot change of hell and scare you all with some sort of randomly exploding world.. which doesn't come yet ^_^; either way its not gonna be that bad  
  
Pairings: 1X2!!!!! XD Hell no its still 4x2/2x4 people…  
  
Disclaimers: do you THINK I own it?  
  
Notes: This chapter is a reward to Hilda!!!!! For snapping my writers block and giving me spiffy new ideas! Thank you SO much Hilda! You are the best ^_^ for now. *cackle* and yes, I am caffinated and such so yeah o_o;  
  
This is a song fic. To Why by Stabbing Westward. They lyrics might not be accurate cuz I typed it from memory. Oh, and yeah, I took some of it out cuz it doesn't fit and I had the idea before I thought of the song. So nyeh. I don't own the song either, But I did steal the parts I cut out and they belong to ME!! Wahaha… _;; I'll go write now. Here we go:  
  
Chapter 20: Why?  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I am not here,  
  
I think I've never  
  
Been here at all,  
  
Or ever will  
  
I feel like a place  
  
Where no one goes anymore… ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
I know what it is I'm doing.  
  
I could feel his back moving with each erratic breath he took. His back was warm, his shirt wasn't incredibly soft, or I doubt it was made to be soft, but it felt fairly soft with wear. It was black, it was odd to see him in black for some reason. I guess everyone wears black at some point.  
  
If I move my hand right I can feel bumps in the material… I don't … think that's the shirt.  
  
I'm not here.  
  
I'm not really surprised that he's wearing black, especially with his back…. Yeah. It's not too surprising he's wearing black, its winter, and more people wear black in the winter, because it's warm. He's actually quite warm. Maybe that's because he's still sick.  
  
I'm not afraid of germs, I don't get sick easily, and when I do it doesn't hit me too hard.  
  
Alcohol has a weak effect on me too, I guess, I don't know for sure if I've ever been really drunk or not.  
  
I can feel his shirt, the soft-worn material, but my hands don't feel right. Feels more like… I have gloves on, really thin gloves. Maybe… like a thin layer of plastic over my hands.  
  
I wonder if that's normal. I doubt it is, I don't know. I've felt like this before though.  
  
Well not exactly like this… this is new, I've never actually been kissed before. Surprise.  
  
I'm NOT here.  
  
His hair is soft too. Its been getting longer lately, I notice. Maybe he's trying to grow it out. His hair looks better longer, more angelic maybe.  
  
He's not an angel.  
  
I am not here.  
  
Maybe he just can't get to someone to cut his hair, I don't know. Why am I obsessing over his hair?  
  
I am not here.  
  
I can't describe it. I feel… floaty? But grounded. My ears are ringing… maybe. I can't really make out what I hear. I hear him breathing.  
  
My arm hurts. But not really, not badly, not really… it's not me. I'm not here, it's more of a dull pain, kind of muted  
  
That's the word, muted. I feel muted. Everything's a little duller, a little quieter, a little less real. I'm not here. I know I'm not, this feels more like a dream.. no, a dream is more personal then this, it's a … movie. I'm watching this, with my eyes closed. It's not real, it's not me, it's make believe, like the stories I write, it's not real, it's not happening, it cant happen, it's not real, I am not here, I will never be here, I am not real.  
  
I write a lot. I have to, I have to have something to do in my free time. I have a lot of characters, some girls, some boys, some that you just cant tell. I have this one story going, where there are these two girls, and they're really close friends. Not in any sort of perverted way. But they're friends, really good friends. They can say they love each other because they do.  
  
One of them cuts. I have to have that in a story right? Its what makes my story, it's depressing. And the other girl starts to do it because her friend does. All sorts of shit happens. I'm not done writing it, hell, I've written maybe a page. Not even. Its just two characters who are as fucked up as I am who I just… plan to write into a story one day.  
  
Quatre recoils quickly from me, coughing badly.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Why can't you see  
  
That everything's broken?  
  
And why can't you see that my life is grey?  
  
I can't believe in anything sacred  
  
When I don't believe that I am real… ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Holy shit.  
  
I stand up abruptly, looking down at Quatre, then at my hands, then at Quatre.  
  
Holy shit.  
  
No, I don't believe this. I don't believe this. I'm not gay, Quatre doesn't… Quatre isn't here. This isn't happening.  
  
Holy shit its real.  
  
No…  
  
Quatre stops coughing long enough to look up at me. His face was tear streaked and for the longest second my stomach flipped at a nauseating level. He locked eyes with me, looking slightly confused, or maybe lacking words. Time is being to slow.  
  
He opened his mouth as if to say something, but either I didn't hear him or he couldn't think of anything to say, because nothing came out.  
  
"No.." I held my hands in front of my face, looking at them, then past them at Quatre. "No… no this cant… " No, I can't be like this in front of Quatre, can't do this. Cant.  
  
He stood up, balancing himself on the wall and took a step towards me.  
  
There is no way that he's really here, really real, right now. No chance. He can't be here. None of this can actually be here. I cant be here, I cant exist there isn't proof, there's no proof of existence.  
  
I don't believe in god, Fuck it but I cant. I can't believe in any of the lies they feed you with that shit. I can't believe this universe was made. At all. None of this is actually real, actually here, he isn't, and I'm not. The cuts aren't real.  
  
I'm aware of it, I'm aware none of this is real. I know it isn't. I don't know what is. But somewhere there's someone off, who has all the answers, and knows exactly what really is real, and he's laughing his ass off at us.  
  
I don't know if that's god or not. I don't know.  
  
"D-Duo… Are… " Quatre walks closer to me and puts his hand on my shoulder.  
  
I guess I'll feel sorry about pushing him off me later.  
  
I slam the door behind me. And run into the bathroom, closing the door, locking it behind me.  
  
I don't look in the mirror, I can't. I don't want to see anything. I don't hear Quatre coming, nor have I heard the door to his room open.  
  
My hands are shaking, Actually, I guess my entire body is, but only slightly, my hands are the worse. Damn Fucking thoughts!!! The fuck is wrong with me?!?  
  
THE FUCK!?  
  
Goddammit I cant feel my hands, I can, but I cant. They don't feel right, my breath doesn't feel right, my thoughts don't sound right. This isn't right.  
  
Quatre cant… He can't. He just can't. He can't be real, he can't be gay, he can't have any sort of feelings for me, and he can't cut.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ It seems so bizarre  
  
But none of this matters  
  
Thoughts disappear  
  
And hopes have died  
  
But now I am safe  
  
Nothing can hurt me ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
I walk over to the shower and take a breath. I should take a shower, it usually calms someone down. I think. It usually calms me down. Or something. Maybe not. Yes. It does, I remember it calming me before.  
  
I turn the water on, making it warm enough. The water will burn my cuts. I know that. I don't care really though, the pain only lasts a second.  
  
I take my clothes off slowly, dropping them carelessly on the floor. I watch as the material folds itself on contact. I wonder if its supposed to do that, if it could do that in a video game, or would a cardboard cut out looking shirt just appear on the floor? Isn't that like real life? Is there even a difference? Is the shirt supposed to fall and ruffle and fold, or is it supposed to just land. What is real? The video game shirt or my shirt? Is that even a question? Why should it matter. It's just a shirt.  
  
I step into the shower, my arm stinging slightly, some dried blood rolling off my arm with the water, falling to the shower floor, faint red colors swirls mix with the water, till its barely noticeable, till it washes down the drain.  
  
Is the blood real? Is it mine? Where does the water go, where does the blood go, it went down the drain, but where does that go? Why does the blood just form small swirls, it doesn't fade completely into the water, it doesn't. It holds some sort of form and then gets washed away. Is there any form of deep, philosophical thought in there? Is the blood symbolic of anything? Is anything symbolic of anything?  
  
Is there any fucking meaning to anything we ever do?  
  
Or.  
  
Is there any fucking reasoning to anything I do?  
  
I slump to the floor of the shower. My arm isn't burning anymore. It's just this dull, muted feeling. I lean to the water controls, and turn the cold water slightly off. I wait a few seconds and the water starts to get warmer. It burns my arm a little more. Then the water gets even warmer, burning my arm more, burning my face and my stomach as well. I keep my hand on the cold water handle, turning it slowly, very slowly so that its almost completely off, the water gets hotter. I cant look sane. The water pours onto my back in violent, burning drops of steamy water. It burns my arm to an almost blinding pain, my face and stomach are much more sensitive to the heat then my back. If they could they would scream out and try to force me to turn the cold water back on. Its off, completely off, I can tell, the water is way to hot for it to be there.  
  
I can barely breathe. But it isn't from the heat.  
  
I stare at my hand on the handle. It's my right hand, and the right arm doesn't have too many scars on it, nothing too fresh either. I can just barely see very faint blue veins underneath the pale skin. In fact the skin seems to be changing color slightly, a little pinker then normal, I'm guessing it's the effect of the heat.  
  
It's too hot. The skin can't take it anymore. I know this. Dammit I know this.  
  
I stare at the hand. It looks paler then normal, yet still pink. It's so hard to put a word for it. It appears to move slowly, but somehow I know it isn't, it's turning on the cold water, all the way up.  
  
Somewhere I know that the cold water with this shower overpowers the hot. A few seconds. Just a few seconds and somehow I know the shower will be incredibly cold.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I need someone to break the silence,  
  
Screaming in my head  
  
And in my soul ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
My entire body clenches as my lungs heave for air. Holy fucking shit the water is cold. –Really- cold. I'm breathing deeper, faster. Its an immediate reaction, clenched muscles, rapid breathing. It's a natural effect, its my body, its my arms, my hands, those are my legs, this is me. This is me.  
  
It's too cold.  
  
I can't control my breathing, I can try but I can't. It hurts, the air hurts. My arm throbs. I can't deal with this.  
  
I drag my fingers up my legs, then down. I can't feel this.  
  
I turn the cold water down, but not completely off. Wait a few seconds and it's bearable.  
  
I'm so fucking stupid.  
  
My breathing regulates.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I am alone  
  
Locked in my memories  
  
There's nowhere left for me to hide  
  
But I am not real  
  
I've made all I am with lies ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
I drag my nails up and down my legs again. I can't feel my legs.  
  
I start rocking back and forth, slowly at first, dragging my nails across the skin on my legs with each rock. I start rocking faster.  
  
I can't feel my legs. My breathing turns into a panicked, hyperventilization once more. Still rocking, I still feel nothing, I still know nothing.  
  
Somewhere some small corner of my mind tells me it was the drastic hot to drastic cold, somewhere that part of my mind dies as I turn the water as hot as it can go again.  
  
I can't feel anything.  
  
She can't feel anything.. this is just another scene in a story I write, one of my characters, I have so many, so many characters, so many in so much pain. I'm lost in them. Sophia. She's a character that would do this. She's feeling this, this is no more real then my stories. That's it. All I have left is that small escape. Trapped in my escape I wander aimlessly. I'm locked there, it's all I have left. It's all I've ever had.  
  
Nothing.  
  
Is.  
  
Real.  
  
I created myself, just as I created my stories.  
  
I am personified lies.  
  
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R&R people. 


	21. author's explanation

I know this thing says not to upload author notes as chapters, but I have a bit to say and I don't want it to crowd the top of new chapter. … that's considering there is one, don't get your hopes up YET, I'm thinking of starting this again but not terribly sure yet.

All right, If you don't really care, you don't have to read this, but I'm just really rambly right now and I think I might try to explain myself and my actions. I did plan to finish this story, I practically carved an oath to finish it into stone. But….

Things do change, and I got distracted and stuff happened and then I had writers block and then new hobbies and then I lost the internet for a very very very long, painful time. And so here I am, back again. And I don't really remember what I wrote in this, so before I started it again I have to skim the story again.

Consider that I do start this again. I wont read the story the whole way through because I just don't have that kind of patience and my writing style would send me into one helluva self-loathing fit, that I just don't have the fucking energy for anymore. So the plot might contradict itself slightly, and you'll have to get over that.

However, I was considering, and this is considering things go … well, 'smoothly' for my writing habit, I was considering rewriting this, perhaps as an original story, perhaps as a fanfic, perhaps both.

I assure you, my writing style has changed, that;s another reason I'm a little hesitant on picking this back up. As well as my mindframe.

If you couldn't notice, from reading this, I am not the … sanest… person around, this story was sort of going to end up being some slight semblance of my life, though not as detailed, and the thing is, I changed a lot since I last wrote a chapter, and I don't know if I have the patience to try to fill in the gap from the last chapter to this mindset of my life. No, the characters are not direct representations of me. Nor am I in this story, nor will I be. And I did have the intention of putting basically –all- of my major mental illness-esque traits (ie- cutting, suicidal shit, others.) Now, now I cant, and I have no intention to, and I don't think that I should EVER write –one- story in which I try to get all of this shit in.

So basically this is a really long author's note saying that I'm going to shut up now, and read over what I wrote in this before, grab the plotline, and try to kick it back into gear. Because, in short, there were a couple new reviews, and I feel bad for stopping it so abruptly. I didn't mean to. Life got in the way.

Damn life.

So.

Here goes nothing or something.


	22. Contour

Summary so far, because it's been a long long time. Quatre cuts himself, so does duo. Quatre is very sick, and his actions are based on how I was for a few days around the time I started writing this, which just so happens to have been 2 years or more ago. Duo and Quatre both live on earth, and fairly near eachother, though they didn't know that, and duo went to a store, and so did Quatre (same store, Quatre drove about two hours though) duo thought Quatre was too sick, Quatre came home with him. First night, duo was in his room cutting himself, and delirious Quatre knocked on the door. I'm playing on the 'god of death' thing with duo, as some do, but slightly differently then most. Quatre came in, duo got odd, duo ended up planning on hurting Quatre in a rather sadistic way (It hink this was chapter 8-ish) Duo found cuts on Quatre, and quite plainly it shocked him, and he didn't hurt Quatre that night (or he did, but not as severly as he would have) Duo freaks, Quatre ends up back in 'his' room, duo hacked his arm more. Fuzzy memory, something happens, I think mainly insight chapters, Quatre and duo talk briefly about the old pilots, Quatre saying that heero and Trowa are a couple. Duo had been mildly hitting on Quatre, and questioning himself rather seriously, and in that familiar denial-ish way. Quatre is gay, and knows this. Yap yap, next day I think, Quatre's sleeve falls slightly and duo makes a comment towards Quatre about the cuts and Quatre –freaks-, duo then admits to cutting as well, in a fairly harsh way, and Quatre takes the news quite badly, and duo's slips from himself, basically, and kisses Quatre. Quatre hated this at first, insight babble, they break apart, duo seems REALLY shocked at himself, Quatre eventually calms him down, and kisses him again. (though it's not love it means something) insight, Quatre coughs the kiss over, and duo basically reacts to the whole situation (and past few day's actions) and runs, to the bathroom, and takes a shower, hot/cold real fast, and mentions that he writes stories, and then sticks his current actions into a different character in a story. That's called escapism. That's where I left off.

Disclaimers: Didn't Iused to talk about a camel? Fuck, it's been a long time. Trust me, Ihave NOTHING anyone could gain, and I don't own these characters.

A/n: I've changed a fuckload since I last wrote a chapter, things have change, my writing style probably has changed, and I've forgotten a lot of the small details of what happened, so if something doesn't quite connect with something in a previous chapter, note that to me and I'll consider it, but this is me saying I have no idea what the hell I'm doing and why I'm doing it. .. well, here goes something or nothing.

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Yes, I was scared, there's no denying that. Duo's probably having a tremendous mental breakdown, he's locked himself in the bathroom, and he's either in the shower or he just has the water running.

Drowning, perhaps he's drowning himself. Maybe he's cutting himself; maybe he slit his wrist in the shower and is now bleeding to death.

I did knock at first, trying, in vain, to help, or calm him down. I stood there for a few minutes, more or less, not really sure what to do or how to feel, then I went to sit on the couch.

So here I am. Sitting on the couch, no sound but the running water. And I can't help but stare at my hands. My skin seems paler, looser even, wrinkled around the knuckles. Seems like I've lost weight, or I could just be really dehydrated, I cant remember what I've eaten lately, or if I have. And should I care?

I don't like my hands, I never have, I hate my body entirely, but I hate my hands the most I would have to say, they're the hardest part of me to hide, my fingers don't look even, they don't look significantly abnormal, and I'd be stupid to think that anyone has actually stared at my hands and criticized them. I know they're too tied up in themselves to analyze my hands as harshly as I have.

But I still hate them.

Duo kissed me first. And yet he's the one who locked himself in the bathroom, walking out the front door would have been manlier I suppose. He pulled on my sleeve, he shoved his mutilated arm in my face, he kissed me first, now he goes and steals the bathroom. What if I have to piss?

I'd put my head in my hands at this point, I feel like I should sigh heavily, slump over, put my face in my hands and sigh a lot or cry. Or maybe I should be shaking. I could go cut myself, loose control. Maybe I should sigh, and then suddenly scream in utter rage and rip out my hair and punch my legs and throw myself to the floor and rip at my wounds and cry and scream and hyperventilate. He kissed me, he yelled at me, he knows he fucking KNOWS, and he does it too, and I'm gay and he's so fucked up over himself and freaking out because of it and he is too, or who the fuck cares if he isn't, and I feel like shit, my throat is raw, I'm not where I want to be, I should be home, I should be alone, I should be taking pills or ripping my arms apart or starving myself for a week and depriving myself of sleep, I'm sick, I should be alone, exhausting myself to the point of death.

But he had to bring me here, I had to come. I have to sleep and he has to feed me and he has to have obvious feelings for me and he has to care and he has to be fucked up too.

And what would my suicide now do to him. That is considering he isn't in there killing himself.

And I should be screaming, I should be breaking down, I should be an irrational, unreasonable little fuck like I always am and I should be trying to portray what's going on inside my head right now with physically acting like a loon.

And I sit here, and I stare at my hands, and I hate them, and I hate myself, and I hate this whole situation, and I hate that skinny boy in the shower, and I hate the taste in my mouth, and I hate the burning of my back, and I hate the color of my hair.

And I hate my house, I hate being alone. I hate starving myself for a week and sleeping once every four days just to see how exhausted I can get.

And I want Duo to get out of the shower, and I want him to come out here, and I want him to sit next to me. And I want him to laugh, and smile, and make some stupid comment about something stupid. I want to erase this day. I want Duo to laugh and elbow me, entirely oblivious to the gashes on my back. And I want to chuckle softly, slightly reserved, as the joke wouldn't be as funny as he's making it out to be, and I want to play-punch his arm when he says something vulgar, oblivious to his cuts.

And I want to be back in the war, I want to be sitting in a room with four other boys and I want the conversation to be lighthearted, and I want to feel like I used to, I want to be the little boy who was so innocent, and I want them to think I was too weak to fight even if I was or wasn't, and I want to be looked down upon for my physical weakness and looked up for my strength of heart I've long seemed forgotten. I want to be there again, where impersonal was the name of our lives, and where everything was seriously light. Where the real problem was the war, the cause.

I want to worry about the world, I want to worry about the stars, I want to worry about if a comrade is dead or not.

I want to forget myself. I want the world to need me to save it, even if I hate it. I need something to distract me from myself. I need something that will overpower my mind more then the repulsive contours of my hand, more then the sick lust for a razor, more then myself.

And I don't want it to be Duo. I don't want to worry about if he's dead or alive, if he's cutting or not, if he's suffering or not. If he loves me or not, if he hates himself or not.

And right now he's in the shower, or perhaps on the floor. And right now he's hating himself or breaking down, or calming down, or dead. And right now he's not here. And right now I'm sitting on his couch, perfect posture, hands on my knees, back straight, throat dry, back burning, lips tingling, mouth distasteful, my eyes have lost their focus.

And I hate the contours of my hands but I never cut my hands because someone might see, and who do I visit, where do I go? What do I have in my life. What did I have in my life, why hadn't I cut my hands before when I would be in my house alone for so long, and why would I care about the short impersonal trips to a store, I could wear gloves in the winter.

And my hands are for the most part, unscarred, and I hate them, and I can never hide them enough.

And Duo's in hell right now.

And I'm sitting on his couch.

I don't want him to love me when I know I could never love him more then I hate myself.

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A/n: Hope I didn't fuck this up.


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